


Battle of the Gangs

by gauthannja, PetitePirate



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Battle, Divorce, F/M, Female Protagonist, Fights, Leadership, Political Alliances, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gauthannja/pseuds/gauthannja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetitePirate/pseuds/PetitePirate
Summary: Mamori returns from the United States and have things ever changed. Hiruma, who has become the man she despises most in the world, calls her back to straighten out things with Deimon just as a gang war is brewing against the fearsome Nagas. But what a surprise when Hiruma joins the Nagas! The two brains of Deimon wage merciless war for control of Tokyo…English translation of La bataille des clans by PetitePirate. Translation by gauthannja.New chapters weekly / every two weeks.
Relationships: Anezaki Mamori/Hiruma Youichi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [La bataille des gangs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15428541) by [PetitePirate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetitePirate/pseuds/PetitePirate). 



> Note from gauthannja:
> 
> I originally read PetitePirate’s La bataille des clans and her other HiruMamo fics a few years ago and kept thinking about them afterward. I would always recommend them to other Hirumamo fans but it was so sad when most people couldn’t read them because of language (even though many people knew multiple languages, just French wasn’t one of them!). I got a lot of inspiration from her writing, so I thought if I tried to translate it would be killing two birds with one stone. So I’m giving it a try!  
> Suffice to say, everything belongs to the author (except I guess the Eyeshield characters!). All errors are my own.  
> I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did! 
> 
> \- gauthannja (translator!)

The landing strip was wet, consistent with the cloudy weather. The thermometer on the airplane showed thirty-five degrees, however, betraying the suffocating air outside. Stretching to release the tension in her muscles from the flight, Mamori stood along with the other business class passengers. There was no need to take down her suitcase, as the hostesses cheerfully handed it to her. Over the past few years she had grown used to this odd exchange, as her work and salary allowed her to fly in the utmost comfort. With a slow but firm step, she climbed down the stairs of the plane along with the others. It was not long before her telephone lit up.

The trip had not even lasted twenty-four hours but already her boss had left her dozens of messages so that she should prepare a perfect meeting. It was his fault anyway: why had he entrusted her with so many responsibilities ?

_ Because you’ve put your body and soul to your work, lining up successive business trips and promotions over these last four years _ , said a voice in her head. 

She put away her phone with a sigh. Fortunately, the long black car was already waiting for her. The door had barely closed when a solemn voice spoke: “It’s been a while, Mamori.”

The blue eyes of the young woman turned to meet those of Takekura Gen. He didn’t seem to have changed: in fact, he appeared neither younger nor older. He poured a glass and offered it to Mamori.

“No, thank you. Never during the day.”

“You seem to have blossomed into an accomplished and independent woman,” the young man noted. 

“And busy,” she finished for him in a sour voice. “I don’t have the luxury of wasting my time at the end of the world indulging whatever fancy. What am I doing here, first of all?”

“To tell the truth, I have no idea,” Musashi admitted, leaning his back against the leather seat. “But it must be very important if we have the luxury of seeing you after all this time.”

Pinching her lips together, Mamori watched the grey landscape that paraded at breakneck speed before her. After the airport one highway unfurled, then another. Neither said anything during the trip, which was not due to displeasure: Musashi was not much for conversation and Mamori was lost in her wandering thoughts. What was she doing here? Finally, the limousine stopped and the driver nimbly got out. The young woman glanced out the tinted window and her eyebrows raised at the sight of the building.

“ Is this a joke ?” she said, annoyed.

“If only. You should hurry, the visiting hour’s already half over.”

Without the slightest indication of rushing, Mamori elegantly stepped out of the car and was soon engulfed by the building. The white letters stood out against the dirty grey landscape.

Prison.

The men and women inside shot hostile looks at her, but she paid them no attention aside— from being vaguely embarrassed to be obligated to come to such a place. However, she had already planned everything in the plane. She would come, she would see him, and she would leave.

They put her in a waiting room along with other visitors: spouses crying with their children, girlfriends in flirtatious outfits who crossed and uncrossed their tanned legs impatiently. Prisoners in light blue jumpers were speaking in low voices to those near them, while others murmured to the men who didn’t seem very respectable.

However, Mamori’s entrance interrupted every conversation in the room for a fraction of a second. The elegant and distinguished poise of the young woman in her sophisticated tailored suit was a stark contrast with the bleak scene. Struggling to keep perfect control of herself, the pretty redhead took a place on a grey plastic chair and waited.

When the metal gate clanged open, she did not raise her head at first. She kept her eyes resolutely fixed on her perfectly manicured nails as the steps and clacking of chains progressed in her direction. She would not look at the person who sat in front of her. A second passed before she took a deep breath with her eyes closed before facing the person who had asked for her.

In those five years, Hiruma had kept his sadistic look, his bleach blond hair and his svelte, well-muscled body. However, he was no longer wearing the earrings that she had always known him to— such accessories were certainly prohibited in prison— and the bright blue uniform did not suit him at all.

Despite the heavy atmosphere, he smiled, that famous false smile that she knew all too well.

“Been ages, fuckin’ ginger.”

Mamori did not respond to his smile. She kept silent a moment before saying:

“You asked to see me, here I am. What do you want?”

“You get straight to the point, I like that…”

“Yes, I don’t like people who beat around the bush, or avoid questions, it is known.” 

She cast a murderous glare on him that did not seem to surprise him in any way. It was as if he could see the wave of rage and exasperation that was filling her body, making her lose the control she had sworn she would keep in all circumstances.

“So?” Mamori continued. “What do you want? Hurry up, I don’t have a lot of time, I need to return to my boss right away.”

“Oh? A new fuckin’ boyfriend?”

“What do you care? I know full well you are having me followed, you know the answer to that.”

Hiruma smiled and turned his eyes toward another inmate who was chatting with a man who seemed to be his father. Mamori took the opportunity to examine him more closely. It had been a long time since seen his tattoos, which began at the base of his neck and disappeared into the light blue folds of his uniform. When he brought his attention back to her, she pretended to be interested in a leafy plant in the corner of the room.

“You’ve taken off the fuckin’ ring, I see.”

In a fraction of a second he had examined the body he knew well from head to toe, stopping on her ring finger. Mamori let out a scoff before retorting.

“Of course. We are divorced, remember.”

“I’m sure you kept it.”

“I doesn’t matter what I did with it,” she said in a careless voice before changing the subject: “How is it that man who built the greatest mobster in Tokyo finds himself in such an ordinary, low-security prison?”

“Kehkehkeh, let’s just say it is the way it is, fuckin’ ginger.”

Mamori raised her eyebrows. She had endured the misfortune of being married to Hiruma, perhaps, but she knew him more than well enough to know he would never simply get arrested.

“Your way, I suppose ?”

He didn’t reply and just stared at her. She hated when he was doing that, and he knew it. Turning her eyes briefly, she said:

“Anyway, that has nothing to do with me. Why did you call me here? You don’t have any more new toys, so now you want to play with the ones you threw away?” 

Her ex-husband remained silent and she did the same. A staring contest, in which he usually had the upper hand. But in the past four years, Mamori had done everything to harden herself and become an accomplished woman with an iron fist, not letting anyone else dictate the life she composed for herself. Nonetheless, seeing her ex-husband again in such a depraved setting threatened the mask she had put so much care into creating. She willed herself not to blink, not to tremble, not to shiver, to stay empty.

“Tch, you changed, fuckin’ ginger.”

“What were you expecting?” Mamori responded. “That I would wait patiently? You’re more perceptive than that, it seems to me.”

She shivered as Hiruma scrutinized the whites of her eyes to see whether she really meant what she said, and prayed that he would not detect the slightest tremble. Getting impatient, Mamori asked for the umpteenth time: “So, what do you want?

It was like a lightning strike. Hiruma’s fingers flashed in a choreography so fast that Mamori hardly had time to decode what they meant. Her eyes widened and she cast a stupefied look at her ex.

“Out of the question.”

“Kehkehkeh… you wouldn’t be afraid of me, fuckin’ ginger?” Hiruma replied, smiling.

“You don’t honestly believe I would really…” Mamori began.

But at that precise moment, a guard announced in a loud voice: “Visiting hour is over.”

Another guard approached Hiruma, who stood.

“The day after tomorrow, two o’clock,” the blond repeated. “Don’t be late.”

He smiled again and then turned away, signalling that was not the moment to discuss further. As he walked away he made signs with his handcuffed hands which she deciphered easily.

« _ You’re more perceptive than that, it seems to me. _ »

A vague anger swelled inside her, making her stand abruptly and hurry out of the prison. She had promised herself that if he wanted something from her, she would make sure he would not have it. But it was a wasted effort, she thought to herself as she left. Whether she liked it or not, Hiruma always got what he wanted.

Musashi was waiting for her in the limousine. He questioned her with a look as she sat, leaning against her elbows and covering her eyes with a hand. She stayed this way for a good moment, until she recovered some of her strength.

“It must be a shock, I suppose, seeing Hiruma in such a situation,” the gangster remarked. 

“How long has he been in prison?” Mamori asked.

“Must be a year now,” Musashi replied, raising his eyes toward the sky as if he were counting. “When he left, some were calling Deimon the ‘ghost gang’. Even though Hiruma managed to take care of the essentials in prison, the other gangs saw we were weakened. But so far Hiruma has prohibited us from electing a new boss indefinitely.”

“That’s certainly a problem,” Mamori admitted.

“So,” Musashi asked, “what did he want?”

The young woman looked out the window, trying to appear calm, but Musashi recognised her agitation immediately as a blush appeared on her cheeks. Slowly she replied, but in a voice so low that he practically had to lean toward her to hear.

“He didn’t have time to tell me,” she murmured, taking care not to look at him. “We’ll find out the day after tomorrow, at two o’clock.”

.

.

.

The cries of anger mixed with wailing of pain rang out beautifully as the tear gas bombs landed in the middle of the courtyard. Seated at a table, Hiruma distractedly watched the armed officers separate the fighters: two fuckin’ idiots who spent their time beating on one another.

“So, lil’ moron, you playin’ or what?” 

Hiruma’s green eyes anchored on those of the brute of a man in front of him, dark and muscular, equipped with sunglasses with cards in hand. Hiruma let out a sadistic laugh before fanning his hand.

“Royal flush, fuckin’ delinquent.”

His adversary threw his cards in the air with rage and stood, furious.

“Little bastards like you, I know your kind,” he jeered as he seized Hiruma by the collar. “You cheat to rake in the cash over and over. Damn dirty son-of-a…”

His fist was stopped by a tanned hand. The man released Hiruma and turned toward another man as big as he was, with sunglasses and dreadlocks. 

“And you… it’s not in your interest to be slobbering your filth in our faces, filthy brat,” Agon growled. In a brusque movement he tossed the loser to the ground, under the protestations of his comrades and the taunts of onlookers. Hiruma stood calmly, unaffected by the attitude of the poker player, and walked near the fence while the guards tried to calm the unrest that Agon had provoked. The Naga gang member joined him, a bloody hand in his pocket, and groaned through his teeth: “That trash ruined my uniform.”

Hiruma took a pack of chewing gum from the pocket of his uniform without replying.

“Whatever, that moron on guard’ll get me a new one,” Agon commented, pulling a dagger from his pocket. “Turns out you’ve been real useful to me, blackmailing security like this. But I can’t help but wonder how the boss of the Deimon gang ended up in such a pitiful prison…”

“Kehkehkeh,” Hiruma chuckled. “Same question applies to you, fuckin’ dreads.”

“Oh, I have no intention of staying here long. We’ll get out of this shithole, it’s just a matter of days.”

The young blond did not reply at first, instead watching the various happenings in the yard as he walked. “How many days?”

“I don’t know, one or two…”

Hiruma’s brain raced. He needed a way to delay Agon’s departure, or fuckin’ dreads would ruin his fuckin’ plan with...

“But tell me now,” Agon went on, “that was one fine filly came to see you today. A little whore wanting to screw a bad guy?”

Hearing Agon calling his ex-wife a slut caused no reaction to Hiruma, who just replied:

“Just a fuckin’ toy.”

“That’s even better,” Agon approved, still thinking they were talking about a prostitute. “A pretty thing like that’s not made for talking, eh?” 

Hiruma looked at him with a huge sadistic smile.

“That’s why you asked for a conjugal visit,” the well-bronzed man added, “from the dumbass director two days ago?”

_ He’s watching his back _ , the demon thought. Agon had an incredible network of his own, and was kept appraised of the slightest information or gesture of those who surrounded him.

“We all need a hottie to go down on us every now and then,” Agon chuckled, putting a hand on Hiruma’s shoulder. 

Hiruma couldn’t stop smiling. The fuckin’ ginger certainly would have no intention of letting herself be touched after they hadn’t seen each other for years. Anyway, he needed her for other purposes, something that only she could accomplish, if she could suppress her disgust for him and muster that inner strength he knew she had, despite all her fragility. And while he made another bubble of chewing gum burst, the guard yelled at them to line up to return to their cells.


	2. Chapter 2

“Wouldn’t it be more discreet to take a different car?” Mamori asked in a bored voice as the vehicle pulled away.

Musashi hadn’t seemed to notice the fear that their presence elicited in the middle of Tokyo, unlike his sadistic boss who seemed to relish in it. Fear could always be taken advantage of.

But this was what Mamori noticed as she left her hotel to return to the prison once again. The doorman had opened the door with a trembling hand, bowing low, to the point that his cap almost fell off his head. It wasn’t until they were outside that the young woman realized this feeling was shared by everyone they passed in the street, who were bowing and quickly running away as they passed near Musashi’s car.

The young gangster sighed, then said, “It would have been more discreet if we didn’t have to come pick you up from your hotel in the middle of downtown.”

“As I told you,” Mamori replied, “I’m not staying at Deimon’s headquarters. Anyway, I don’t intend to stay here long.”

“Ah well, that isn’t up to you,” Musashi said.

Mamori stiffened before looking away, sulking. The car drove to the prison and, for the second time, the young woman tread across the gravel. Her high heels were not adapted for such uneven ground, causing her to wobble slightly as she picked her way across to the entrance, while Musashi waited for her again, his telephone to his ear.

Once more, Mamori passed the guards. A fat woman looked her over from head to toe before scowling, then consulted the register.

“Anezaki Mamori, is it… Let’s see… ah, there it is… Conjugal visit with Hiruma Youichi, is that right?”

Mamori had to force herself to reply through her teeth in a barely audible voice, “Yes.”

“Okay…” the woman said, grabbing a chip from the bottom of the bag and stuffing it in her mouth. “Room 02. End of the hall on the left. Your lover won’t be long.”

Mamori took a stiff step, cursing the service that was rather lacking in this seedy prison. Gradually she realized that she was unquestionably slowing. As if she was… afraid?

 _No, Mamori,_ she told herself, _you’ve spent four years nursing your wounds. They have to be healed by now._

She entered the room. It was fairly spacious, which was reassuring. Fortunately, there was a chair, which meant she didn’t have to sit on the bed. Just the sight of it was enough to make her flustered. When she realized she was beginning to remember the first months of marriage with Hiruma, she shook her head and took out her phone. To keep her mind busy, rather than simply waiting idiotically, it would be better to prepare her return to the United States.

“Yes, hello,” she said, taking on a professional and confident tone. “I would like to know if it is possible to reschedule the private jet that was to arrive tomorrow to this evening, please.”

“What is your name, ma’am?”

“Anezaki Mamori.”

After she had given the information about the flight, there was a moment of hesitation, then she heard the apologetic voice of the woman on the other end of the line. 

“I… I’m sorry, ma’am, but it seems that you cancelled your flight sixteen hours ago?”

“I… pardon me?” Mamori said, fearing she had misunderstood, “No, I didn’t cancel anything, I… why would I have canceled it, first of all?” 

“Because I need you here, fuckin’ ginger,” a voice behind her said.

Mamori carefully closed her eyes and bit her lip as she hung up on the sales representative who was stammering a vague, incomprehensible apology. Then she turned.

Hiruma examined her from head to toe, which made her feel flustered again. The demon noted two things: first, she was wearing the dress she had worn the last time he had seen her, four years earlier with the divorce lawyer between them. Second, she had also taken the precaution of turning away from the bed. This thought made him snicker internally. 

“You’re keeping me here… for a conjugal visit?” Mamori said, raising an eyebrow. “You know that is out of the question…”

“Kehkehkeh… you should have put on the ring, it would have made your fuckin’ disguise more believable.”

“Why are you so preoccupied with that ring?” Mamori retorted, not knowing what else to say. “I don’t owe you anything anymore.”

Hiruma did not reply to her question, but instead cackled once again. “Oh? I seem to remember you loved it back then, fuckin’ ginger.”

Mamori wasn’t able to keep herself from blushing and looked away. Although she had tried to push away the memories of her marriage only a few minutes ago, he had to bring it up again right away. It was, she knew, all orchestrated with the singular goal of making her lose her senses so he could take control of the situation. She swallowed, then replied, “Yes, like all newly weds.”

Hiruma approached her with a step and she made no move to avoid him. Instead she stared back with prideful disdain.

“So,” she said, “get to the point. Neither of us likes to beat around the bush.”

Hiruma let out a laugh before replying in a serious voice.

“I have a task for you.”

Mamori frowned. “What do you mean, what kind of…?”

But she did not, unfortunately, have the chance to finish her sentence. In that moment, louds bangs against the door made her jump in surprise. 

“Hiruma! Come out of there!” came the voice of a guard. “Dirty bastard. You two, break down the door!” 

Shocked, Mamori stuttered, “What is thi…”

“Tch…” Hiruma murmured, more to himself than to her. “Fuckin’ dreadlocks and his fuckin’ hazing.”

He suddenly advanced toward Mamori who, frightened by the brusque approach, tried to back away, but he grabbed her hands.

“You’ll be needing this,” he said in an astonishingly calm voice.

“But what’s happening…”

But Mamori didn’t have the time to say more, because the crashing against the door that threatened to give way had become worrying. With a quick glance, Hiruma saw the first guard try to enter through the door blocked by a chair. 

“There he is! Hang on, I’ll unblock this damn door.”

Hiruma sighed and turned away, while Mamori watched the guard break the chair with his baton.

“Hiru--”

Her ex-husband grabbed her by the waist with both hands, pressing her against himself before he kissed her by surprise, forcing her mouth open. It only lasted a few seconds, then Hiruma parted from her just as, in a final burst, the door to the conjugal visit room broke open. Weapons were pointed at them, and Hiruma looked at them calmly. The chief of security entered, jingling a ring of keys, and said with a contemptuous voice:

“Well well well… Sorry to interrupt your little party in here, but it seems you have been hiding something from us. How is it that we found the keys that Tamaki lost this morning stuck under your desk?”

Hiruma didn’t reply. Mamori stared at him, not understanding. Everything was happening too fast for her; already the chief was saying, “Take him to an isolation cell, but search him first.”

“Chief, should we search the girl too?” a guard asked.

Mamori had the clear impression that Hiruma glanced at her briefly. The chief paused for a second that seemed endless, then said:

“No… what is important is what enters this prison. Take him, and see the girl to the exit.”

Mamori stepped ahead, peeking at Hiruma before leaving, escorted by another guard who was careful enough to walk behind her so he could check out her sumptuous silhouette. Hiruma, however, was violently pushed out of the room, and had no opportunity to see his ex-wife cast a last look back at him.

Mamori didn’t say anything until she was outside the prison and entered the car where Musashi was waiting. He said with an ironic voice, “Ah well I hope you enjoyed yourself. A conjugal visit, I hear?”

He watched the woman bring two fingers to her mouth which she opened. She extracted a chain connected to a key and considered it in astonishment.

“What is it?” she asked in a slightly fearful voice.

“Of course,” Musashi replied with a small smile. “Hiruma always has a plan of his own in mind.” 

Mamori didn’t reply, but instead looked at the key attentively. It was gold, rather modern, and on the head was engraved a symbol of a crown.

“Do you know this key?” she asked Musashi.

“I’ve only seen it once,” he admitted. “but…”

He held out his hand and took the chain between his thumb and index finger before considering the key with a careful eye. Then he tapped twice on the glass between them and addressed the driver.

“To the airport, and book me two tickets to Osaka. Immediately.”

“Osaka?” Mamori repeated.

“I recognize this symbol. It’s the key to a safety deposit box of a bank. I believe Hiruma has a safe in Osaka. We have to go.”

“To… what, now?” Mamori stammered, taking back the key. “But…”

“If he gave the key to you, it must be for you to get something important,” the gangster insisted. “If not, he never would have had you come back from the United States.”

The young woman was on the verge of refusing, but it would be completely futile. Sighing, and giving in to her curiosity, she turned her attention to the window as the car charged ahead at full speed. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Hiruma closed his eyes before spitting blood. _Fuckin’ guards…_ After leaving the room, they had taken him to a separate cell. Not finding anything on him had irritated the chief of security, who didn’t need to be persuaded to beat him. The gangster hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even responded, knowing that would only make things worse. But it was also because he knew this was a trap that had been set for him, those keys hidden in his cell. Agon had this personal philosophy about subjecting his underlings to incessant hazing, in order for them to prove their loyalty. And so Hiruma could only sit still and wait for the torture to end. He hadn’t made all those sacrifices over the past year so that fuckin’ dreadlocks could ruin everything. In the isolation cell, everything was dark and there was nothing else to do but wait, wait and wait some more. Wait for his plan to work, as always.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention, then the hatch on the door opened and a tray slid through.

“Your meal, Number One. Hurry and eat up.”

“Oy, fuckin’ guard, what time is it?”

“You should stop swearing or I won’t talk to you anymore. Don’t you know, folks go crazy when they’re alone, without any contact with the outside world?”

Hiruma didn’t reply, but lay back in the cot, staring at the wall.

“It’s 9pm,” grumbled the guard. “What good’s that to you, anyway? You got a train to catch?”

.

.

.

Mamori woke up startled as the wheels of the plane landed. The brutal awakening mixed with her lack of sleep revived her headache as she stretched once again. Musashi had reserved her a seat in economy class, which did not help. She sighed, waiting for the aircraft to come to a complete stop, as the pilot had requested, and brought her hand to her neck, where the key Hiruma had given her hung as a pendant. What did he want, making her get on all these planes, first to see him, and now to go open some safe in Osaka?

“Is everything okay, Mamori-chan?”

The young woman raised her eyes toward her travelling companion. As the temporary director of the Deimon clan while Hiruma was away, Musashi could not travel with her, so he had assigned the duty of accompanying the boss’s ex-wife to his right-hand man. Mamori knew Kurita Ryoukan well. Despite his scars, and his high body mass, the young man’s character was nothing like a merciless gangster. On the contrary, he was almost always smiling from ear to ear; but this did not prevent him from being, when the situation required it, a ruthless opponent.

He took Mamori’s bags in one of his large tanned hands, then gently suggested, “Shall we go?”

Reassured by his presence, Mamori smiled and they exited the plane. Kurita didn’t seem to realize that as he was walking he was smacking people with Mamori’s luggage. The angriest of them turned and opened their mouths to complain, but at the sight of the many tattoos on the huge man they promptly fell silent.

An immense black and red truck was waiting for them on the tarmac.

“The problem with me is, well, I don’t feel comfortable in limousines,” Kurita explained vaguely. “I prefer vans. They’re a lot more comfortable, you’ll see.”

 _Comfortable… that was one way to see it_ , Mamori objected a few minutes later as they sped away. For the entire trip she was unceremoniously jostled left and right. Kurita, somehow remaining steady, was enthusiastically eating a snack he brought from Tokyo. The drive lasted a good half-hour, and when they arrived the young woman tottered as she stepped out of the van.

“Mamori-chan,” Kurita said, worried. “Is something wrong?” 

“I… No, no, I’m fine,” she replied, blinking as little by little the world stopped spinning around her.

“Maybe you’re tired from the trip,” the gangster said. “Do you want some takoyaki?”

He offered her the octopus balls with a huge smile, but Mamori felt her stomach turn and fought back a hiccup. Looking away, she found herself face to face with an immense skyscraper. The gold letters indicated the name of the bank in italic characters, crowned with a symbol identical to the one on Mamori’s key.

“Take your time,” Kurita told her. “I still have plenty of bento.”

With an embarrassed smile, Mamori waited until he slid the door of the van shut before entering the bank. Strangely, she felt in her element. Usually overly sophisticated no matter where she went, Mamori quickly noticed that the women working in this bank cared for their appearance as much as she had for the past four years.

With a confident step, she greeted the teller.

“Excuse me, I would like to access… this safe, please.” She removed the chain from around her neck and held it out to the clerk who hesitantly took it in her hand before examining the serial number. Typing on her computer, Mamori saw her stiffen, then fidget before glancing at her.

“Ah… Please excuse me for one moment.”

With a hand tipped with black nail polish, she picked up her phone receiver and dialed a number. After a few minutes she was in the middle of conversation with someone who seemed to be rather talkative, if the young woman’s long pauses were any indication. Mamori was beginning to become impatient when the woman hung up, returned the key to her, and said, “Please go to the end of the hall and take the elevator to the thirty-third floor. Someone will take care of you there.”

Skeptical, Mamori complied, heading to the elevators which were thankfully empty.

“Why did you send me here, Hiruma…?” she asked herself as one of the golden cabins shuttled her to the heights of the building.

A man in his forties dressed in white greeted her and bid her sit in his office.

“Madame,” he said, “I imagine you know you are in possession of the key to a safety deposit box that is on the blacklist.”

“On… on the blacklist?” Mamori repeated.

“A safe belonging to one Mr Hiruma Youichi. That is your spouse, I presume?”

Normally Mamori would have immediately specified that she was a divorced woman. This impulse was stronger than she was, and she had already instinctively opened her mouth when the man cut her off.

“The safe is protected not only by this key, but also by a code.”

Mamori’s blue eyes widened. _A code! He must be kidding._ She hadn’t seen Hiruma in four years and that demon thought she could guess it? Her expression seemed to be making the man before her have doubts, but then Mamori’s eyes fell on the ring on her finger.

.  
.   
.

Flashback

.

“Tch…” Hiruma murmured, more to himself than to her. “Fuckin’ dreadlocks and his fuckin’ hazing.”

He suddenly advanced toward Mamori who, frightened by the brusque approach, tried to back away, but he grabbed her hands.

“You’ll be needing this,” he said in an astonishingly calm voice.

.

.

.

In that moment Mamori had been so afraid and stunned that she had not even felt when he passed her the key to the safe, but Hiruma had also slipped his own wedding band on her finger. Now she understood that if he had kept it, it wasn’t because of her, but for Osaka.

 _Well, obviously_ , she thought, sneering internally. _That idiot is not sentimental in the slightest_.

Slowly she pulled Hiruma’s wedding band off her finger and looked at it carefully. Simple, silver, the ring was no different from any other ring. But examining the inside of the ring, Mamori noticed an engraved phrase so tiny she had to squint to read it.

“Welcome… to … hell…” she read aloud. 

The man looked at her, perplexed, and she raised her eyes to the sky. Of course. Hiruma would never have just left the password out in the open. It had to be a riddle, one that only she could solve.

“You know,” the man stood impatiently, “No doubt you are here to access this safe, but clearly you do not know the code to access it.”

“No, wait…” Mamori said.

But he had no intention of sending her away. Making a sign to follow him, he led her to an air conditioned room, in the centre of which was a wooden table and a comfortable chair. There were also dozens of rows of gold-plated cabinets. The man indicated the safe bearing the number “1”.

“I will give you exactly ten minutes,” the man in white warned her. “You can only access this safe with both the key and the code. If you haven’t found it by then, I will ask security to escort you out.”

Mamori was going to protest that she was there for no reason, that it wasn’t her fault, but the door closed behind her. Irritated, she set her bag on the table furiously and sank into the chair, burying her head in her hands. Mentally cursing Hiruma, she remained this way for a time, wasting precious minutes. Eventually she picked up the ring and read it again.

“…Welcome to hell.”

Mamori had no idea what he meant.

 _No, calm down,_ she told herself, tucking her hair into a clip. _If Hiruma gave you this key, it’s because he knew you could find the code. Concentrate, think about it from his perspective… Think…_

Mamori buried her head between her hands again and closed her eyes. She thought and thought and forced herself to remember.

Welcome to hell…

To hell…

Hell…

.

.

.

Flashback

.

Mamori moaned as she stretched and moved under the sheets.

“What time is it?” she asked in a drowsy voice.

“Tch… does it matter, fuckin’ wife?”

The young woman turned her tousled head toward Hiruma, who was sitting next to her on the bed, typing on his computer. Placing a hand on his bare muscular arm, she scolded him, “I remind you that you crushed my phone when I tried to work yesterday. Maybe I should do the same, hmm?”

He didn’t reply, but instead kept on typing away. Calmly, Mamori reached out her hand and closed the laptop, causing, as she expected, the irritation of her husband.

“You are really a fuckin’ ginger,” he shot back, infuriated. “The next time that…”

Mamori straightened willfully and climbed onto his lap, kissing him like he had a few minutes before.

“Work… time… what does it matter, anyway?” she said in a low voice.

She buried her face in his neck and proceeded to leave a trail of wet kisses. Slowly the young man’s hands seized her waist and she felt rather than saw his sadistic smile.

“Tch… who would believe you could be like this…”

Mamori didn’t reply, letting him pin her on the bed.

.

.


	4. Chapter 4

Behind the bars of his cell, Agon checked the watch in his pocket for the umpteenth time. Already so late… what were they doing, fucking around? The other prisoners were all sleeping, but already three guards had entered and were walking the length of the hallways.

“Wake up, ladies, night rounds. Get those sweet little faces out from under the covers.”

Agon sat on his cot as the other prisoners groaned and insulted the guards for waking them up in the middle of the night. The man with dreadlocks consulted his watch again before the three guards arrived at his cell.

“Where’s your cellmate, Number 2?”

The man did not reply, and instead put his sunglasses on with a grin.

“Eh! Agon!” the guard persisted. “He asked you a question! Where’s your cellmate?”

“How should I know?” Agon replied. “It seems to me I’m not the one who’s supposed to be doing your job.”

“What did this guy just say?”

“Get him outta there!”

The guard turned the key in the lock before grabbing hold of the man who shook him off. Another launched at him, and together they managed to handcuff and immobilize Agon.

“What’re you doing over there?” the third guard asked.

“Finish the rounds,” the first said. “We’re taking this one for a walk.”

Without waiting for the response of their colleague, they led the prisoner out of the cell, to the hall of guards. Then… they let him go.

“Pfff, incompetent asswipes,” Agon groaned as they removed the handcuffs. “You’re one day late!”

He grabbed the arm of Asuka, who had freed him, and twisted it.

“What’s the point of these tattoos if you can’t even fucking respect the boss of your own gang?”

“Sorry, boss,” the gangster trembled. “I didn’t mean to… it’s just we were slightly delayed. The time to tamper with the cameras and… and all that.”

Agon maintained his hold for a few seconds, savoring the sight of his underling suffering, then finally let him go with a shove. “And what about that bastard Hiruma?”

“He didn’t talk,” the other man replied quickly. “He’s in the first isolation cell. Tatsumi went to get him.”

“Handcuff me,” Agon ordered, before entering the storage room. “And bring him to the entrance. Hurry up.”

At that very moment, Tatsumi returned with Hiruma. Even in his damn prisoner uniform, the demon was impressive.

“We don’t have much time.” Agon said. “The night rounds will be over soon and somebody’s gonna sound the alarm.”

“Kehkehkeh, you lost your influence quickly, fuckin’ dreadlocks.”

“Boss,” Tatsumi murmured. “We have two minutes to get out before the front guards and the chief realize we changed the codes. The police van is waiting for us in the underground parking.”

.

.

.

« H… A… D… E… S… » Mamori typed in the monitor before inserting the key.

Hades was the name Hiruma had given to the island that he had bought. He had never brought anyone there before, so she had been the first person he had allowed to step foot on that white sand paradise, just after their marriage. 

Mamori blushed. She had thought she had done everything in her power following her divorce to forget that island that had come to symbolize their love nest. Her thoughts faded as a series of clicks announced that the safe had opened. Slowly sliding out the drawer-like cabinet, she saw a box inside which she removed and placed on the table.

Heart pounding, she hesitated before opening it.

At first sight there was nothing remarkable inside, but Mamori carefully removed each item that was in the box. There was a golden revolver which she put to the side with disgust, two cellphones— astonishing because she always remembered Hiruma having hundreds—, a signet ring made of white gold set with a black stone, and also… the book of threats.

Skeptical, Mamori pulled out the small notebook. Hiruma had always gotten what he wanted through this little book. Could she bring herself to open it? Her curiosity was overpowered by her disgust. No… those were Hiruma’s methods, not hers. Sighing, she put the notebook aside.

The golden revolver, the phones, the ring and the threat book.

What was Hiruma trying to tell her? Did he expect her to bring him these things, since he was in prison?

She couldn’t think about it further because suddenly the light turned red and an alarm sounded. Mamori leapt up, trying to understand what was happening, when she heard a woman’s voice :

“Your attention please. We ask that everyone please leave the building immediately.”

The pretty redhead hesitated, then shoved Hiruma’s things into her bag before rushing from the room in a flash. The employees ran around her in all directions, panicked, calling out in the Osaka dialect. Struggling to understand them, the words she could finally make sense of caused a chill to run down her spine.

_Bomb threat._

.

.

.

The police van drove with the flashers off until it finally stopped in an empty field in the middle of nowhere, where a black car was waiting, perfectly hidden into the landscape. 

“Ahhh,” Agon sighed, letting himself sink into the leather cushions of the limo. “Shouldn’t you have left America a little bit earlier?”

Kongo Unsui looked at his twin brother with disdain before replying in a cold voice, “Excuse me for not being here every minute to fix your stupid mistakes. Besides, I thought some time in jail couldn’t hurt you.”

He turned his eyes towards Hiruma, who entered the car while Tatsumi and Asuka, the two gangsters who had freed them, took their places in the front, one at the wheel and the other in the passenger seat.

“Who’s this?”

“Hn… Hiruma Youichi,” Agon said, lighting a cigarette.

“The boss of the Deimon gang?” Unsui said, blinking. “You’re crazy to lead the enemy to our…”

“No problem, bro,” Agon replied. “He can be useful to us.”

But this argument did not seem to convince Unsui, who looked at Hiruma with suspicion. The demon spoke.

“What’s up, fuckin’ baldy? Scared of me?”

Unsui said nothing more, turning his attention to the mundane, lifeless landscape. His father had handed the management of the gang over to Agon, the prodigy son who nonetheless made no effort to oversee anything of importance in the business. Unsui knew his brother was too immature, with his dissolute lifestyle and lack of principles, to take care of the gang. He decided he had to take action…

“Welcome to the Nagas family, Hiruma,” Agon said calmly, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

…and the first thing to do was to watch Hiruma Youichi closely.

.

.

.

Mamori rushed into the packed elevator without a moment’s hesitation. Clutching her bag to her chest, she tried to understand what the people around her were saying.

“We don’t know why, maybe someone pulled the alarm by mistake.”

“Don’t worry,” someone replied. “I’m sure it will be taken care of soon.”

Mamori noted that everyone was heading to the ground floor to make their way to the exits, as requested by the voice on the intercom. Suddenly, her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. She was surprised the signal could reach her in the elevator cabin.

“Hello?” she murmured in a hushed voice.

“Where are you?” Musashi asked. “Kurita called me in a panic saying there’s been a bomb threat. Is someone after you?”

“I… I’m still in the bank. Apparently it was just a mistake, I’m in the elevator heading downstairs with everyone and…”

“No! Get out of that elevator! Now!” His imperious tone was so imposing Mamori obeyed immediately, pressing the button for the next floor. The elevator doors opened, to the exasperation of occupants who were irritated and panicked at being delayed. Embarrassed, Mamori bowed in apology, but an apparently paranoid woman retorted dryly: “Your apologies are pointless if there really is a bomb!”

And the elevator doors closed.

“Take the emergency exit stairs,” Musashi told her. “All the way to the basement.”

“What’s happening?” Mamori asked, opening the doors one after the other.

“Kurita will wait for you below the bank. Try to avoid being seen, and– above all– whatever happens, don’t follow anyone, even if they say they’re security.” 

Trembling, Mamori nodded, glad that Musashi could not see her in her current state, and descended the stairs. Her shoes were a hindrance, so she removed them in order to take the steps more quickly.

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to let the police deal with this?” she ventured, short of breath.

“It seems you still don’t understand,” Musashi sighed. “Whoever pulled the alarm is almost certainly from a rival gang who came to get you. They probably want access to the contents of Hiruma’s safe.”

Mamori froze, shocked by the information. Without realizing, she let her shoes fall, the sound reverberating throughout the stairwell.

“W… what? Why? They would have even come here…?”

“For a woman who was married to a mobster, you’re not very clever.”

Mamori bit her lip without replying. Hiruma hadn’t tried to distance her from his world, but she had seen no reason to integrate herself into it either. Nonetheless, she had benefited from special protection in case of surprise attacks from enemy gangs.

“They have to be either from the Dinosaurs or the Nagas,” Musashi continued, “They’re gangs very close to the police. They can pass as a security guard and wait to find you, then capture you and disappear. That’s why you have to get out of there immediately.”

The ex-wife of a mob boss closed her eyes for a moment, before inhaling deeply. She had no interest in being involved in this sordid business. Resuming her descent, she arrived at the bottom of the stairs out of breath and entered the underground parking of the bank. The dark rows of cars were lit by a raw light that forced her to blink as she looked around for Kurita’s black van. It was silent, something completely paradoxical knowing what was happening a few metres above her. The sound of a vehicle made her turn, and she was relieved to see the van approaching. But in the same moment, another van emerged from the shadows. The side door slid open to reveal three gangsters armed with revolvers.

“Look out!” Kurita yelled in a frightened voice through the door window. The Deimon van swerved and collided with that of the rival gang so violently that it was crushed against the wall.

At first Mamori was so shocked that she couldn’t move, even when Kurita opened the door loudly, calling to her to climb in. The pretty redhead ran to the vehicle, somewhat hindered by her short skirt, when one of the Naga thugs shouted: “Die, Kurita!”

Mamori turned and saw him point a revolver at the huge gangster. Moved by an instinct she couldn’t explain, she pulled Hiruma’s golden revolver from her bag and pointed it at the Naga, then pulled the trigger. She wasn’t trying to kill him, just make his aim miss its mark or even simply scare him a bit. Luckily, while she was with Hiruma she had learned how to handle a gun, but her arm shook so much she missed her opponent’s weapon. The bullet struck the wall. But her shot made the gangster duck, which gave Mamori the time to board the armoured van and slam the door shut. The assailant turned in all directions, not knowing which direction the shot had come from or who had fired it.

But Deimon had already raced out of the underground parking garage, sending various objects in the van flying. Mamori looked at the gun she held in her hands before suddenly dropping it as if she had been burned. Kurita carefully picked it up. 

“Mamori-chan…”

“Thank you, Kurita-kun,” Mamori said, straightening. “But I think I wouldn’t want to do that everyday…”

Sighing, she took her seat and said nothing else the rest of the way to the airport, too shocked by the recent events. No sooner had she seen Hiruma again than he ruined all her plans, destroyed her quiet routine, and put her through all this madness. She promised herself she would strangle him the next time she saw him.

She almost blessed the van when it stopped, and was the first to get out.

“I think I’m not really made for vans,” she said with a shaking voice.

“You saved my life,” Kurita said slowly. Mamori had a smile that looked more like a grimace, with a corpse-like complexion which was not reassuring in the least.

“ ‘Saved your life’ is a bit of an exaggeration,” she said tactlessly. “Aren’t they going to follow us?” she added, worried.

Kurita shook his head, a huge smile on his face. “Here, in Osaka, we’re in Teikoku territory, and we have an alliance with them. We have the right to come here, unlike the Nagas. I think Takeru has already sent some men after the Nagas.”

Mamori couldn’t understand a thing he was telling her, but didn’t dare ask. Kurita took Mamori’s bags out of the back.

“Musashi asked Karin to get us a jet,” he said in an embarrassed voice. “Considering what we retrieved from the bank, he thinks it would be better not to be bothered by other passengers on a commercial flight. If the Nagas followed us this far, they might even try something on a plane.”

The young woman raised her eyebrows, still not understanding anything, but it wasn’t the time to discuss it. She welcomed the news gladly, hardly in the mood to endure for any further uncomfortable modes of transportation.


	5. Chapter 5

Hiruma chewed his gum relentlessly as the smoke of the lackeys’ cigarettes invaded his nostrils. After their escape, Unsui had not wanted them to return to their secret hideout with a “stowaway” on board, and under the pressure, Agon himself had to admit that Hiruma needed to prove his loyalty. They had therefore given him a place high in a skyscraper, in a hotel room with tinted windows that looked out over the part of Tokyo controlled by the Nagas.

Standing behind the desk in his black suit, Hiruma gazed at the city deep in thought. In the distance was the maritime port controlled by the Kyoshins, and in the east, the gleaming white and very posh area of Ojo. He couldn’t see the rest, but he knew beyond that, to the south, there was the territory of the Zokugaku Chameleons and then the Dokubari Scorpions, and finally the unstable area belonging to Deimon. Hiruma’s green eyes darted to the side briefly before he closed them, a slight smile forming on his lips.

At that moment, the door opened. The exclamations of the gang members confirmed the arrival of Agon. He approached Hiruma, but the blond did not turn.

“So? What are you planning to do?” 

“What do mobsters do, in your opinion, fuckin’ dreadlocks?” Hiruma replied with his eternally sadistic smile.

“What we want is to expand our territory,” Agon said, advancing on him. “My brother says you’re no use to us… but the Deimon gang was flourishing when you were there. You could use your influence to invade Deimon, and…”

“Kehkehkeh, are you crazy, fuckin’ dreadlocks?”

Agon turned on him, a cruel smile on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling nostalgic for your old friends?”

“Deimon has too many alliances with other gangs,” Hiruma said. “If we invade Deimon, the Nagas will be invaded from all directions.”

Agon, who knew nothing of Deimon’s affairs, could only reply with a moody groan.

“So?” he growled impatiently. “What can we do?”

“First we have to take over the fuckin’ gangs that aren’t officially allied with them. Ojo, Taiyou, or even the Deers…” Hiruma heard Agon’s greasy laugh.

“I never understood why you were in that pathetic low-grade prison. Even if you’re nothing but a dirty bastard, you’ve still got that uncanny sense of strategy.”

The blond demon did not reply.

“The new weapons cargo will arrive through Kyoshin in a few days,” Agon said to his lackeys. “That’s enough time to get together the money from the taxes and receive them.”

They obeyed without hesitating.

Agon waited a moment before saying, “When we control this city, I’ll make sure you are personally the one in charge of taking over Deimon. Afterall, without a boss, it’ll be child’s play.”

“… Kehkehkeh,” Hiruma chuckled, staring out at nothing. “Child’s play.”

.

.

.

“Me?! But there must be some mistake!”

“I’m afraid not. It makes sense, actually…”

Mamori was livid, her eyes bulging. To calm herself, she started pacing back and forth, wearing the red carpet bare. She finally stopped in front of Musashi, himself perfectly calm, and said pointedly:

“I, Anezaki Mamori, head of the Deimon gang? Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?”

The gangster shrugged with a sigh.

“I can’t run a gang,” Mamori said. “I know absolutely nothing about it! And besides, I don’t want to!”

“Hiruma gave you Doburoku’s signet ring, and everything that matters most to him,” Musashi replied, looking at the ring she had placed on the low table beside the cellphones, the golden revolver, and the threat book. “So you are the one who must run the gang.”

Mamori grabbed the ring and held it out to him. “In that case, here, I make you the head of the clan.”

Musashi raised his hands and shook his head.

“That’s impossible,” he said. “The rules are clear: the power of Deimon is passed down from generation to generation. Hiruma had no heir, so it’s normal that the succession of the gang goes to his wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Mamori corrected him dryly. “And given that I am officially not part of his family anymore, I do not see why I should have to lead the gang.”

“That is Hiruma’s decision,” Musashi said. “Although,” he added, to prevent her from speaking again. “This is not the moment to debate. Don’t you understand? Why would Hiruma put you at the head of this gang? Because he knows you would be able to put it back on its feet. I don’t know what his plans are, but you have to trust him.”

_ Trust him? That’s rich, _ Mamori thought. She had trusted Hiruma. It ended in a divorce that had been difficult for her. Shaking her head, she let herself drop onto a sofa with a look of despair.

“Why would he choose me? I always stayed away from this world, I don’t know it at all, I would only run Deimon into the ground.”

At that moment, two people entered the room and froze when they saw her.

“Ma… amori?”

“Mamori!”

Sena Kobayakawa and Raimon Tarou, more commonly called Monta. Two gangsters who, again, did not look the part at all. Small, their ordinary appearance gave them an advantage when covertly infiltrating enemy gangs. Mamori gave them a thin smile as they sat facing her.

“So, you’re our new boss, just like that?”

“I am not the new boss,” Mamori replied, with poise. “I wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Can’t you see that? It would be like driving straight into a wall if I was the one in charge.”

Her heart ached as the smiles of her companions sunk into disappointed expressions. Musashi’s eyes did not leave her for a second, gauging her slightest reaction.

“Without a leader for the past year, the gang is hurting,” he began. “And I don’t have the power nor the influence to put pressure on the other gangs, unlike Hiruma. Now we have a chance to come back up for air. Would you really be at peace with yourself, returning to the United States knowing that you had condemned us all to certain death?”

“Ah, well…” the young woman began, uneasily. “Not really… but…”

In reality, that was not what bothered her the most. It was Hiruma. Since her divorce, Mamori no longer trusted men, least of all her ex-husband.

“We’re here to help you, Mamori-chan,” said Kurita, approaching her with a smile. “Even if you don’t trust Hiruma, you know all the Deimon members under his orders. You trust us, right?”

Mamori pressed her lips together. Yes, she certainly trusted her old friends more than Hiruma, but leading a gang required strategy, panache, and a certain personality that she was far from possessing. Musashi seemed to have read her thoughts, and a smile broke his face. Noticing this, she turned her head toward him.

“He knows you very well,” he remarked.

“And what do I get out of all this?” Mamori demanded.

“Security,” the mobster replied immediately. “Even if the Nagas didn’t see you in Osaka, they will certainly be looking for anyone who might be close to Hiruma. We already hacked the system thanks to the Nasa Aliens. According to official sources, you are accompanying your boss on visits to various companies in Japan.”

“What? But… I still haven’t said yes!” Mamori was furious. It reminded her of the time when Hiruma controlled every aspect of her life ‘because it was important business.’ 

“If you didn’t join the gang, the Nagas would have followed you to the United States to have a means to pressure Hiruma,” Musashi objected. “The situation is much more complicated than you seem to believe.”

But Mamori understood the situation perfectly. She was in danger because of Hiruma! What had she been thinking, marrying a mob boss?

“I have no intention of staying locked up here,” she retorted.

“No one is asking you to. It simply means that you no longer exist in Japan. You are free to move about as you wish. On the condition you get rid of that red hair, at least.”

The young woman frowned. It all seemed a bit overblown. But she knew he was right. Hiruma had been in danger thousands of times, from what little she had picked up on, and this was why he insisted on being always on the move, and always further and further away from her. It was certainly this struggle to survive that had made him such a poor husband…

“If I accept,” she began slowly, “Will you help me?”

Musashi smiled slowly, before standing. “We’re going to have to get you up to date on the business, I think you’ve guessed that for a while now, the Deimon gang has been in serious danger. We need you to save us.”

Mamori raised her eyes to the heavens. Deimon was praying for a miracle. What a cliché! How could she be the one to do such a thing!

.

.

.

Five days later.

.

.

“How did the negotiations go?”

“Well,  _ Anezaki-sama _ .”

“I told you not to address me like that.”

“Pardon me. Zokugaku Chameleons renewed their alliance with us immediately. Luckily, we had maintained good relations with them. We leave them free to broker the traffic of weapons… There seems to be a risk that the crime rate might increase, no?”

Musashi looked at the young woman who was half distracted by the view in front of her. In less than a week, she had completely transformed, just as he had expected. The perfect gang boss. She was dressed in a discrete black suit, hair gathered up in a bun secured with four pins. On the desk rested a pair of glasses and a mannequin head with the black wig which she used when she had professional meetings.

At her feet, Cerberus was snoring loudly.

“The crime rate won’t change, the attempts to regulate the gang failed in the past. The alliance with Zokugaku is only to gain a site for battlegrounds and negotiations anyway. The residential districts are in Seibu’s territory. Zokugaku’ territory is only warehouses, practically deserted, isn’t it?”

Musashi nodded and placed a briefcase filled with bank notes on the desk.

“Five hundred million yen. I thought the accounts were empty. How…?”

The young woman did not reply to the question, leaving him in suspense.

“Ask Seibu to supply the best firearms possible.”

“Firearms? Do we have something to fear?”

“Clearly. The advance of the Nagas, from what I can see. How are we doing with the other gangs?” 

Musashi looked at her. Under her question he knew she was asking about her ex-husband.

“Monta infiltrated the Nagas yesterday. According to him, a new weapons cargo should arrive via Kyôshin for Agon soon. I also heard they plan to invade Oujou but I suspect that’s nothing but a rumour.”

Mamori turned suddenly.

“Oujou? But… Koharu…”

Koharu Wakana was the partner of the boss of Oujou, and the manager of the entire gang. Unlike Hiruma, her husband Takami Ichirô had let her integrate into his mobster life, although not without putting her constantly under the protection of dozens of bodyguards. Koharu had often helped Mamori during her marriage, helping her understand things that Hiruma hadn’t wanted to tell her. She had been, for a good long while, a close friend and confident.

“What will happen?”

“I don’t know, nothing is certain at the moment. But we are not officially allied with Oujou, so technically we have no reason to interfere.”

“No reason?” Mamori repeated, dumbfounded. “Are we talking about the same Oujou? A major part of the wealth of Tokyo is incorporated in…”

She stopped. Musashi had already warned her. In the gang underworld there was little room to be sentimental. It was important to always prioritize the benefits they might gain from any action. And Deimon was not officially allied with Oujou, so there was nothing for them to gain. The Nagas could very well invade Oujou without any cause for Deimon to intervene.

“I doubt Agon thought of this idea on his own,” Musashi noted. “After all, he has only ever wanted one thing: taking over Deimon.”

Mamori doubted that Hiruma was innocent in this affair. She didn’t know what he had in mind, but one thing that was certain was that Deimon could not hold its own against the Nagas in their current state for long. They needed to act, and fast.

“Send all our spies to infiltrate the enemy gangs. I want to be warned if there is the slightest attack,” she said. “Have our members watch Kyôshin and inform me when the Nagas’ cargo arrives.”

“What do you plan to do?”

The young woman closed her hands into fists.

“We are going to intercept the weapons, even if it means dragging Deimon into war with the Nagas… We have to accelerate things, as long as our alliances are on track, while the Nagas still think we’re weak.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating exceptionally twice this week, because I forgot last week :)

“Are you sure about what you are telling me?” Unsui murmured, imperceptibly tightening his grip on the morning paper he was reading. 

Seated on the chesterfield across from him, his fingers folded together, Ikkyu lowered his head and contemplated the long case that held his sniper rifle.

“I’m certain. I saw Deimon moving freely in the Zokugaku’ territory and in Kyoshin. They seem to be talking about future alliances.”

Agon lifted his chin to exhale smoke through his mouth. Unsui looked at him with a disdainful look which he imperiously ignored. 

“It seems Deimon has a new leader,” the older Kongo brother remarked in a sour voice. “Just as Hiruma gets out of prison, what a coincidence!”

Ikkyu stood, picking up his case. “I’ll warn the others so they can do more research on this new boss. No one has seen him, and since we aren’t authorized to enter any of the neighboring territories, it’s difficult to collect information.”

“That’s not news,” Unsui replied. “Call us when you have something.”

Ikkyu left and Agon sighed.

“Better ask that bastard Hiruma,” he said with a chuckle.

“You still trust him after that?” his brother retorted in disgust.

“Eh well, it's in his best interest to give us an explanation,” Agon shot back, standing abruptly. He grabbed his blazer and stormed out of the room. Unsui let out a long sigh.

.

.

.

“A new boss, huh…” Hiruma made a bubble with his chewing gum when Agon confronted him.

“Our spies are trying to gather the maximum information on this new arrival. Got any leads for us? Unless you want to just give us his name.”

The former boss of Deimon chuckled before replying. “That fuckin’ midget is not the major problem.”

Agon raised his eyebrows. Was he trying to buy time?

The blond explained nonetheless. “If Deimon has already renewed their alliances with Zokugaku in addition to Seibu, they’ll be equally matched with us in terms of weapons. If they take Kyoshin too, they will be able to keep surveillance on everything we import. As an enemy gang, that’s a bit problematic. If that’s the case, Kyoshin will reinforce their security and infiltrating them will become even more difficult.”

Agon’s grin was more of a sneer. He was not very cunning, so he was suspicious of the strategy in front of him. But on the other hand, the Nagas never maintained good relations, least of all with Kyoshin ever since one of their leaders, Mizumachi, was the victim of an ambush a year earlier, orchestrated by Agon himself.

The boss of Kyoshin, Kakei, had never forgiven him. So the sea had been closed off from them, forcing the Nagas to deploy spies throughout the territory in the hopes of collecting the imports intended for them. Often in vain.

“What do you propose, then?”

“Nothing.”

Agon blinked.

“NOTHING?!” he repeated. “Do you take me for a coward?”

“If we attack directly they’ll know we consider them our enemies. We have to attack from the shadows. They can’t do anything to us without proof it was us.”

The leader of the Nagas nervously took a drag on his cigarette and breathed in the smoke. The situation clearly didn’t suit him. He turned toward Hiruma.

“Fine. But in the meantime, I’d best send spies to Deimon for some supplementary research on this new boss. And believe me, when I’ve got a hold of him, I’ll crush him and all the vermin that surround him in one swoop.”

He ended his tirade with a strike of his fist against the window. That high in the building the glass was very resistant, but the blow was so strong even the panes beside it shook.

Hiruma did not respond, but continued to look at the view as he formed a new bubble with his chewing gum. When the door slammed behind him, he finally brought himself to turn slightly in the direction that Agon had disappeared.

“Tch…” he said.

.

.

.

Raimon Tarou hopped in place to warm himself up. The nights in Kyoshin were cold and the briny wind off the sea made him feel like he needed to sneeze. Burying his hands in his pockets, he struggled to keep his teeth from chattering. A noise behind him put him on guard. Shifting to his feet, he climbed up on the iron bar that sealed the door of the shipping container to hide on top of the enormous metal case. Sure enough, a shadow appeared below, looking in all directions. Raimon leaned over and launched himself at the person with a screech similar to that of a monkey.

There was a fearful cry in response as the person darted away with lightning speed. A cry that could only belong to one person, the young gangster thought as he crashed against the asphalt of the port.

“S…Sena?” he stuttered. He turned his head toward the walkway between the rows of containers, where he could hear footsteps. His best friend, Kobayakawa Sena, turned back to face him.

“Monta!” he said, relieved to see it was only his friend. “Why did you jump at me like that?”

Monta was Raimon Tarou’s codename. Formerly a member of a gang specializing in exports that had rejected him, the gangster joined Deimon after faking his death. Afterward he had adopted the nickname Monta, as Sena often called him, as his codename. His best friend was also one of the Deimon gang’s oldest, most loyal and talented members. However, no one would suspect this small, frail young man who looked like a high school student was one of the greatest gangsters of Deimon. With messy hair and light brown eyes that were often bright with fear, beneath his leather jacket and t-shirt the young man hid numerous tattoos with incredible designs, as well as astonishing hidden talents.

“Sorry,” Monta replied as he dusted himself off. “I thought you were a Naga.”

“Are you sure about your intel?” Sena asked, looking around anxiously. “We didn’t warn Mamori about our plans. She might worry, or worse, this might cause problems for her.”

“It’s precisely because I’m not sure that we need to do more recon. We don’t want to worry Mamori over speculation.”

“But we’re not supposed to be in Kyoshin’s port.”

The two gangsters were in enemy territory on an espionage mission, without either Deimon or Kyoshin knowing. Monta was the best at obtaining information, no matter how confidential. According to his sources, the Nagas cargo would be arriving secretly at Kyoshin tonight.

“Monta,” Sena was still uneasy. “Why don’t we alert Kyoshin instead of sneaking in here? The Nagas don’t have the right to import and export through this port anyway.” 

His best friend pinched his lips together and scratched the back of his head.

“I don’t know, but if it’s a weapons cargo, shouldn’t the port guard be informed? Why would the Nagas bring something so important by sea, when they know everything is controlled? But it seems like Kakei and Mizumachi haven’t gotten wind of the information. The port is deserted.”

Sena looked at him, perplexed, before timidly suggesting, “You think the port guard’s been bought?”

“Bought or threatened,” Monta specified. “With gangs like the Nagas and the Hakushu Dinosaurs, it could be anything.”

A noise behind them made them jump. Sena turned his head to check the main row of containers, where shadows outlined beams of light near the port.

“What is it?” Monta whispered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sena replied in a tone so serious he sounded like someone else entirely. “We can’t let them find us no matter what. Mamori hasn’t finalized the agreements yet, we don’t have authorization to sneak into the port. Come on, let’s go.”

Quick as lightning, Sena launched in the direction of the docks into the shadows, as Monta climbed back up on the container to find out who was coming to Kyoshin at such a late hour.

The searchlight in the distance cracked then sputtered out. Monta held his breath and squinted as he tried to make out the person who now walked below him in the darkness.

But he didn’t notice the presence outlined on the container behind him until a cold voice whispered, “Isn’t Deimon forbidden from Kyoshin’s territory?”

.

.

.

“I’m glad that our relations are being renewed, despite the year that has passed,” Musashi said as a waitress poured a beer in the glass on the low table. 

Kakei turned his ocean blue eyes on the woman who accompanied Musashi who had not said anything since the beginning of the meeting. She had not been introduced, and he couldn’t manage to take his eyes off her. She seemed to vaguely remind him of someone.

He also found her strange, this woman wearing contact lenses, thick eyeliner and pronounced eyeshadow, aside from the black wig in a severe square cut. She barely spoke, never putting herself forward, while Musashi intercepted all the questions that were addressed to her. However, the contracts that she presented demonstrated a certain rigor that he had rarely seen. He was more accustomed to Hiruma’s unconventional style, which had been much less organized.

They were alone in the bar, except a pianist playing some unknown song and the dozen Kyoshin bodyguards who stood behind their bosses. Deimon, on the other hand, only had two guards: Kurita Ryoukan and Komosubi Daikichi. Although fewer in number, these two massive men were each capable of sweeping an entire line of men.

At Kakei’s side, Mizumachi was also doubtful, despite being perfectly reclined with his hands crossed behind his neck.

“We always knew Deimon would be reborn one day,” Kakei said. “And uniting together in an alliance against the Nagas can only be beneficial for us both.”

“I understand,” replied Musashi. “We have forgotten to specify that the previous formalities that Hiruma put in place still hold.”

“Great!” Mizumachi shouted gleefully, putting his feet on the table and crossing his arms. “So, let’s celebrate?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have the time,” the woman replied suddenly, breaking her silence.

Musashi glanced at her, as Kakei and Mizumachi both turned toward her.

“Ohey! Musashi, who is this pretty young girl?” the latter asked cheerfully.

“Pardon me. This is Hana,” Deimon’s second-in-command blatantly lied. “The new boss of Deimon.”

“Boss?” Mizumachi repeated, looking Mamori up and down. “How can a woman be the head of a gang?” 

Mamori turned her eyes from the long scars on his arm, uneasy. Kakei stared at her, still trying to determine who it was under the wig. Musashi realized he was focused on her and turned his attention directly on Kakei.

“We know access to the sea is prohibited to the Nagas, but we have reason to believe that a weapons cargo for them will soon be delivered to Kyoshin.”

Kakei frowned and Mizumachi became serious.

“We haven’t heard this information. Our territory doesn’t have the best security, I admit, but nothing enters the port without us knowing.”

He interrupted himself to pull out his cellphone. A message. Mamori and Musashi saw him pale, then pass his phone to Mizumachi who stood immediately. Kakei took the time to bow toward Mamori and Musashi. “We thank you for everything. We must take care of an urgent matter now.”

Once they had left, accompanied by their bodyguards, Musashi received a call. Mamori soon recognized Sena’s voice and her motherly instincts kicked in.

“Is that Sena?” Mamori asked in a low voice, fidgeting nervously. “Where is he?”

Musashi put the call on speaker, and they heard Sena’s panicked voice.

“Musashi! The Nagas are attacking Kyoshin. We need reinforcements on the border with Seibu. Now!” 

They heard the sound of gunfire in the background, making Mamori freeze. She grabbed the phone, terrified at the idea that something might happen to him.

“Sena? Sena!?” she cried. “What’s happening? Answer me.”

But there was a click and the line went dead.

Musashi stood and turned to Kurita. “Call Yukimitsu. Have him access the Kyoshin cameras immediately.”

“Ah… yes.” The bodyguard pulled out his phone as the group made their way to the exit. They raced out of the bar, but as they prepared to enter the car, they heard an explosion in the distance. Mamori cried out in surprise and ducked, afraid a projectile might strike her.

“Mamori!” Kurita threw himself over her to protect her.

“No, Kurita…” Musashi began. But the huge guard had already made a screen with his body, suffocating Mamori and Musashi in his large arms. A second, then a third explosion sounded in the distance, making the ground shake.

Perched on her high heels, Mamori fell to the ground. Her wig slipped and fell also, revealing her red hair.

Musashi took her by the arm to help her up and hurried her into the car before anyone could see.

“What was that?” she asked as soon as he joined her inside.

“Taiyo, apparently,” he murmured. “The explosions were in the southwest.”

Taiyo wasn’t a particularly dangerous clan, but they were a cultural hub that held relics of inestimable value, making them one of the richest gangs in the city. Because of this, the security system in the territory was incredible, an impenetrable barrier that no gang had been able to cross. Until that night…

“Was it the Nagas?” Mamori asked, shaking.

Musashi pressed the button of the control panel and a television screen descended from the ceiling of the limousine in front of them. It turned on automatically and the face of Yukimitsu Manabu appeared on the screen.

“What do you have for us?” Musashi asked.

“No news on Kyoshin,” he replied. “The cameras at the port had been sabotaged, we couldn’t get any image. But we were able to locate the cellphones of our members there.”

“Sena and Monta?” Mamori suggested.

“They’re inseparable, clearly,” Musashi groaned. “I’m going to kill them when I catch them.”

Mamori turned toward him with a terrified expression, unable to tell if he was joking or not.

“And for Taiyou?” Musashi asked hastily. 

“I took advantage of the confusion to collect some shots from the video surveillance. I’m sending them to you.”

The frame with Yukimitsu reduced in size to make room for the images from the cameras. Mamori saw an imposing man with a wild mane of hair cross a museum gallery and stop. Before him a bronzed man with a shaved head turned to face him. The two appeared to be talking.

“Banba of Taiyou… one of the most powerful guards,” Musashi commented. Yukimitsu’s voice seemed distant to Mamori as she watched as the one called Banba was mercilessly crushed by his adversary.

“Gaô Rikiya, of the Hakushu Dinosaurs,” she breathed.

“Yes,” Yukimitsu Manabu replied. “I checked the cameras from the past few days. It seems the Dinosaurs have a secret alliance with the Nagas.”

“You’ve met him?” Musashi asked Mamori.

“Yes, once,” Mamori murmured, looking out the window with a distracted gaze as Kurita headed in the direction of the border between Seibu and Kyoshin.

.

.

.

_ Flashback _

.

.

Mamori struck the wall violently and fell with a cry of pain. The shock cut her breath momentarily. Pushing herself up with her hands, she slowly raised her head toward her aggressor.

She had been preparing to leave, furious at Hiruma for having stood her up once again after she had made the reservations months in advance for their anniversary, when this frightening individual entered the private salon.

“But… why are you doing this?” the young woman asked feebly, looking at him.

“Ask your loving husband,” he retorted with an evil smile as he approached her again. “These are the risks when you marry a gangster.”

He had raised a fist when the sound of a machine gun rang out behind Mamori. She flattened herself to the ground, head under her hands. The thunder of the bullets was momentarily deafening. She didn’t hear the window explode, nor the person enter. When she raised her head, her senses numb, Hiruma was in front of her, his right hand on his submachine gun, his left nonchalantly stuffed in the pocket of his suit, chewing his gum. 

“Get lost, fuckin’ hulk,” Mamori heard distantly.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Hiruma Yoichi. I thought I’d come make a courtesy visit to your wife. Such a beauty! It’s unfortunate that your actions force me to disfigure her.”

“Kehkehkeh… you’re still such an idiot, sometimes. Well, if your fuckin’ boss is dating fuckin’ dreadlocks, I’m not surprised you’re resorting to these fuckin’ methods.”

Gao sneered and stepped forward. Hiruma didn’t move, although his hand tensed imperceptibly on the gun. The Hakushu Dinosaurs bodyguard turned to Mamori, still on the ground.

“We’ll meet again, I hope.”

And he left, smashing through the door.

Mamori stood shakily, while Hiruma didn’t bother to look at her, help her up, or even explain the situation or the reason she was attacked. Not a glance, not a word. Except…

“Fuckin’ wife… you think I have time to babysit you?”

Mamori looked him in the eyes. He prepared to leave, him and his eternal pride. Nothing, no compassion. She stopped him as he stepped away, and slapped him with all her strength. He didn’t try to avoid the strike.

“That’s enough,” Mamori said in a strangled voice, on the verge of tears. “That’s enough, Youichi.”

Turning on her heels, she rushed out of the restaurant. At the door, a group of waitresses had gathered to find out what had happened. They parted as they saw Mamori exit, dress crumpled, her high heels clacking on the tiled floor.

Hiruma watched her leave without moving, and took out his phone the moment she disappeared from his view.

“Follow her. And the next time you lose sight of her, I will send you to hell, fuckin’ midget!”

And he hung up.

.

.

.

Ikkyu watched Deimon’s limousine pull away. Hidden in the shadow of a dark alley, he took out his cellphone with a satisfied smile.

“Yes boss. I have some excellent news about the new leader of Deimon.”

.

.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_ A few hours earlier _

.

.

Sena reached the docks alone and hid immediately when he saw the Kyoshin guard. He took care to hide in the darkness so that his shadow would not betray him. Monta wasn’t behind him yet, being slower in general, but he was taking more time than usual.

_ Where is he?  _ Sena asked himself, looking around in every direction. 

“Hurry up already?!”

The young Deimon gangster grimaced as he saw Nagas members with the guard, pushing him with the tip of his revolver. One of them hung up his cellphone.

“Apparently the boat is approaching the coast guard zone. But the supplier refuses to come into port.”

“You were supposed to take care of it!” Tatsumi Ryuzaki hissed, forcing the barrel of the revolver in the neck of the guard.

From his corner, Sena pulled out his handgun as he saw the situation was escalating, but the other Naga, Masayuki, retorted, “Calm down Tatsumi, the port guard doesn’t deal with that.”

“And what are you suggesting?” the gangster grumbled. "Agon’s expecting the cargo tonight.”

“Kehkehkeh…” the sadistic laugh in the distance made their blood run cold. Sena turned to see his former boss and friend. His blood froze in his veins.

Hiruma.

It was as if he had never been in prison. Dressed in a black suit, hands in his pockets, Sena saw him walking toward them, accompanied by his bodyguards. At least they seemed to be his bodyguards… ?

“You’re apparently completely useless, fuckin’ assholes,” he told them with a sneer. “Agon would have you massacred.”

“Eh? You lookin’ for trouble, bastard?” Tatsumi shot back, pointing his revolver at him.

Hiruma didn’t respond, but continued in a poised tone. “I already hacked the servers for the coast guard. The radar won’t detect the ship. Now I recommend you get a move on.”

Akira gauged him with his eyes until his companion pointed to the sea.

“Look!”

Indeed, the ship had arrived and would soon dock. It wasn’t an ocean liner, as Sena had expected, but simply a yacht. What kind of weapons were the Nagas expecting? This boat certainly didn’t have enough space for a substantial delivery of…

A noise from behind him made Sena turn abruptly, brandishing his gun.

“You’ve got some balls, coming here.” 

A kick to the young gangster’s hand made him drop his revolver. He turned on his heels, ready to flee, when he saw a shadow on top of the shipping container leap to the ground behind him.

“Who… who are you?” he asked, readying himself to fight. “Nagas?”

“Hah?”

“Haah?!”

“Haaah?!”

“Hey midget! You take us for some Nagas bastards? You wanna get crushed or what?” 

Hands in their pockets, Jumonji, Kuroki and Togano emerged from the shadows, annoyed expressions on their faces. Beside them, Monta seemed unimpressed.

“Is this really the moment to be joking around?”

“Pfft,” Togano replied, without looking up from his manga. “It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve gone somewhere undercover, just relax.”

“Guys!” Sena was relieved to see them. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here on vacation, obviously,” Jumonji said, his voice full of irony. “What do you think? That we were just going to let two weaklings go to Kyoshin alone?”

“Weren’t you supposed to follow Mamori?” Monta grumbled.

“It gets old, all these meetings in bars,” replied the Juumonji.

“Yeah!” Kuroki was compelled to add. “Action is way cooler!”

“Hiruma is down there,” Sena told them. “The ship is mooring now. We have to tell Musashi and Mamori right away.”

But before they could do anything, the sound of a car cut them off and turned to watch the situation unfold.

An ordinary looking car stopped at the pier. Unsui got out.

“There’s something strange going on,” Sena whispered to his friends. “The ship that arrived is just a yacht. And I don’t see a truck anywhere.”

“That ship’s too small to carry a serious weapons cargo,” Monta objected. “What’s going on?”

“It must be a different kind of weapon…” Jumonji began.

“Guys! This ain’t good!” Kuroki broke in, pushing his friend down.

A bullet struck the metal of the container beside them, right where Jumonji’s head had been a few seconds before.

“Wh… what is it?” Jumonji demanded.

“Shit, a sniper!” Monta called out, his eyes turned toward a utility pole. “They found us! What do we do?”

Something rolled toward them before emitting a white cloud of smoke.

“Tear gas!” Togano shouted. “Get out of here!”

Sena and Monta raced into the maze of containers in the yard, separating from the Haha Brothers. Unsui stepped away from the car and approached Hiruma.

“You were supposed to stay in the damn building,” he said dryly. “If you want to be part of the Nagas as you claimed from the start, I advise you to control yourself and obey orders. You are no longer the boss.”

“Kehkehkeh… I’ll take that as thanks, fuckin’ baldy,” Hiruma replied with his unending sadistic smile.

The head of the Nagas grated his teeth, detesting the idea of owing anything to this man that he absolutely refused to trust. Hiruma didn’t wait long before advancing toward the yacht.

“Hey, fuckin’ bastard! We don’t have all night!”

A familiar face emerged from the lower decks before the man launched into a spectacular jump, landing in front of Hiruma.

“Long time no see, Hiruma,” said the man in Japanese with a heavy American accent.

Patrick Spencer. Codename: Panther. He still wore the white headband emblazoned with a black panther, as well as his shining smile. A smile that disappeared when he saw Unsui behind him.

“Oh… you work for the Nagas now?”

“Kehkehkeh… Just give us the merchandise, fuckin’ American,” Hiruma retorted.

Panther shot a hard look at the Nagas. He didn’t like this gang much, but his leader, Jeremy Watt, had declared that the American mafia would remain neutral in relation to the tensions that reigned in Japan. They were to take all the orders for weapons, regardless of who asked for them.

Panther deftly returned to the yacht, where his guard was waiting: Donald Obarman, codename “Mr Don.” He handed Panther a black briefcase. Unsui reached out to grab the briefcase before Hiruma, then impatiently opened it to verify the contents.

“Be careful,” Panther warned Unsui offhandedly, without even looking at him. “It’s delicate and dangerous. You need a magnetic card to open it,” he added.

He slowly held out a black card to them, clenching his teeth as if part of him wanted to throw it in the sea rather than hand it over. Hiruma took it between his long slim fingers.

“The rest of the payment will arrive in the next few days,” the head of the Nagas replied casually, watching Mr Don hand two enormous metal cases to the gangsters who loaded them into the car.

“Boss!” cried Yamabuchi, rushing toward them. “Sanzo was on recon: intruders are in the port!”

“Panther!” Mr Don shouted.

The American quickly jumped back on board. The arrival of their yacht was officially expected the next day in another part of the harbour reserved for pleasure craft, meaning they had to return to sea and put distance between themselves and the Japanese coast as soon as possible. Unsui took the briefcase to the car, pulling the card from Hiruma’s fingers in the same motion. Hiruma looked in the direction of the maze of shipping containers and saw a shadow move across the top of one.

“Tch…” he muttered to himself, then plunged into the maze himself. “Fuckin’ midgets…”

Unsui entered the care and bellowed at the driver, “Get going!”

The car pulled away immediately.

.  
  


.

Monta was running out of breath behind Sena, the fastest gangster in Deimon, and probably in all of Tokyo. 

“Se..Sena…” he gasped, “wait… for… me…”

His good friend slowed his pace and caught his breath. 

“I think we lost the sniper,” Sena said. “At least… I hope. Where’s Jumonji? And the others?”

Even before Monta could respond, they heard gunfire in the distance. The two men exchanged a look. Could their friends be in trouble? Without thinking, they turned back, retracing their steps, Sena with his cellphone to his ear.

“Shit, what’s happening?” Monta yelled.

“No idea, but we’re going in!” Sena decided, praying that Musashi would pick up. “We will be safe at… Musashi! The Nagas are attacking Kyoshin. We need reinforcements at the Seibu border. Now!”

But he couldn’t finish his sentence, because at that moment they exited the yard of shipping containers and heard machine gun rounds firing at their right. Sena jumped back, dropping his cellphone which fell to the ground. He and Monta pulled out their revolvers and pointed them at their former boss and friend. Hiruma advanced on them, armed with his trusty machine gun. He stopped beside Sena’s phone, still on the ground, from which Mamori’s terrified voice could be heard:

“Sena? Sena?!” she cried out. “What’s happening? Answer me!”

The phone emitted faint static as Hiruma crushed it under his heel.

“Hiruma, we thought you were on our team!” Monta said, retreating to the entrance of the port.

“Kehkehkeh… Fuckin’ monkey. In this world, we’re on the team that makes the best profits.” 

Hiruma pointed his machine gun on them and fired again. They heard the sound of a car approaching; the Nagas’ car. It stopped in front of Sena and Monta, disorienting them enough that they didn’t know where to point their weapons.

Unsui got out... but to their surprise, he was followed by Jumonji, who was pushing a revolver into the ribs of the Naga’s leader. Kuroki was in the driver’s seat, yelling: “Hey brats! Hurry up before more show up!”

Sena and Monta didn’t need to be told twice. Unsui grated his teeth.

“You three brothers of Deimon-- I’ll kill you one day!”

Despite the fact the car was already racing away, he could distinctly hear the three men reply:

“WE AIN’T BROTHERS!” 

Enraged, Unsui turned to Hiruma as if to accuse him. But suddenly he closed his mouth, and instead spoke in a calm voice. “Let’s go, we have a few errands to run before we get the stuff back.”

He took out his phone to call for a car while Hiruma woke up the Nagas guards by delivering a substantial kick to each one.

In the distance, an explosion was heard. Hiruma watched a column of smoke rise in Taiyo territory, then a second, and a third. He looked at Unsui, who did not appear to be shocked by the explosions.

He had his cellphone to his ear and looked back at him with a triumphant expression. 

.

.


	8. Chapter 8

“If you’ve grown tired of being alive, I can put an end to your suffering,” Musashi said threateningly.

He had not even raised his voice, but the tension was palpable. Although Hiruma would have pointed his submachine gun at the ‘fuckin’ midgets’ and fired at them, Musashi embodied a quiet force.

Kurita and Komosubi exchanged a worried glance. Mamori didn’t know what to say, filled with relief that they had escaped Kyoshin unharmed as much as she feared their impending punishment. 

“We’re really sorry!” Monta cried, bowing before him abruptly.

Sena did the same. Juumonji, Kuroki and Toganou only grimaced and avoided Musashi’s glare.

“How can you chew us out when we just helped prevent a civil war?” Juumonji grumbled.

“That’s not the issue,” Musashi replied in a strong voice. “Our arrangements with Kyoushin could be compromised because of your stupidity! Prevent a civil war? You could have started one!”

Juumonji said nothing more, turning his head with an irritated glare.

Mamori sighed. “So? What did you find?”

Monta and Sena exchanged a look.

“We saw a yacht moor at Kyoushin. There were some huge metal cases, and this.”

Sena placed a black briefcase in front of Mamori and Musashi. Musashi looked at it and scowled.

“It can only be opened with a magnetic card,” he said with a glance at the group.

The others shook their heads. No one had thought to get the card off Unsui. Yukimitsu entered the room, removing his glasses with an exhausted sigh.

“The cases were closed with huge combination locks,” Monta told him. “Were you able to open them?”

“Kurita and Komosubi did it,” he replied. “Luckily, the contents weren’t sensitive to shaking.”

“I think if that were the case, these five would already be dead,” Musashi remarked. “Rikku told me you knocked over two people with the car in Seibu. You’re a danger to the public!”

Once again, the five guilty parties didn’t reply. Yukimitsu cleared his throat and continued.

“They were bomb mechanisms, it seems.”

“Bombs!” Mamori repeated, horrified.

“Don’t worry. They are deactivated. According to the screen, a special number must be entered to detonate them.”

“But surely these bombs must be set off from a distance,” Mamori objected, turning to the black briefcase. “In that case, this must be the remote control to activate them.”

“Certainly, but I doubt these bombs are a danger. In fact, I don’t believe that they could blow up anything. Their power is so weak they wouldn’t be able to even blow up a car.”

Perplexed, Musashi raised an eyebrow. Mamori thought a moment before saying, “Are they intact? You didn’t notice anything about their features?”

“Well, I’ve never seen this model. But from what I can tell, they seem incomplete. There’s some kind of notch as if something is meant to be inserted in them.”

“Maybe the purpose of the bomb isn’t to blow up a room or a building, but to blow up something that could be even more deadly,” Mamori said. “Like poison, or something like that…”

“It’s possible,” Yukimitsu replied. “The Hakushu Dinosaurs and Shinryuuji Nagas are involved, so the attack on Taiyou might be linked to these bombs as well.”

“Stealing all this from the Nagas… they are going to make us pay dearly. And they aren’t the only ones, in my opinion.” Mamori turned toward Yukimitsu. “During the confusion at Taiyou you pirated the surveillance footage. Check all of it. There might be a clue.”

Yukimitsu bowed and complied immediately. Musashi turned to Mamori. She seemed exhausted. Too used to Hiruma who pulled all-nighters without a problem, he had forgotten that Mamori had the pace of life of a normal person.

“I’ll take care of the rest,” he told her. “Get some rest, Boss.”

.

.

.

“Eh? Deimon?” Agon said, swerving to the right violently. “An ambush?”

The ash of his cigarette fell on his jeans as he drove. Exasperated, Unsui massaged his temples and muttered, “Drive properly, for the love of God.”

“You want me to play taxi driver, bro?” Agon growled. “It’s a humiliation for our gang! Not to mention you getting your ass handed to you by that Deimon trash!”

“Be patient, fuckin’ dreadlocks,” Hiruma cut in, gazing out the window. “We’re preparing for an eminent strike.”

At these words Unsui raised his head.

“Fine,” Agon said. “So we’re going to the Amino Cyborgs as planned?”

“No,” his brother said. “Stop here a moment.”

“Eh?” 

Agon skidded to a halt in the intersection, provoking frantic honking to which he paid no attention. He looked at his brother with a furious glare.

“You think you can order me around, bastard? You think you run things? You think you’re the boss?”

Unsui gave him a cold stare before turning his head. “Hiruma. You drive.”

Agon exchanged a look with the ex-head of the Devil Bats, then gestured to the steering wheel with his chin. They got out and exchanged places.

“How ironic, to have to do such a degrading job, Hiruma,” Agon scoffed as the two men crossed paths. “But if you hadn’t taken pity on that meathead Kurita, you would be where we are today.”

Hiruma wore his famous sadistic smile as he took his place in the driver’s seat without replying. The moment Agon stepped into the car, Unsui opened the other door and Ikkyu entered.

“What’re you doing here, loser?” Agon groaned. “Still hanging around cabarets watching chicks?” 

“You might say that,” Ikkyu replied, letting himself relax in the seat of the limousine and stretching his legs. “I even saw one, real pretty--- WOAAAAH!”

“Ya-ha!”

Hiruma shot off, pedal to the metal, making everyone fall over. He was driving even faster than Agon.

Unsui glared at him. “You hear that, Hiruma? A woman at the head of Deimon? You know her, maybe?”

“A woman, huh?” the blond repeated as he negotiated a turn perfectly, making Ikkyu fall again. “These fuckin’ midgets must be in a hurry to dig themselves into a hole if they’re putting a fuckin’ woman in my place.”

“What does she look like?” Unsui asked with a glance at Hiruma, watching his slightest reaction. 

“Eh… well…” Ikkyu hesitated. “I didn’t really see her. The fatty was blocking my view. I think she had short hair… brunette.” 

“A woman, huh…” Agon said thoughtfully. He turned toward Hiruma. “Hey, change of plan. We’re going to Oujou.”

Hiruma glanced at Unsui, who didn’t contest his brother’s decision.

“Eh, why Oujou?” Ikkyu asked. “It’s four in the morning already.”

Agon sat back in his seat and threw a mocking look in Hiruma’s direction.

“It’s rare to see a woman at the head of a gang. We’re gonna send a little welcome present.”

.

.

.

It was six o’clock in the morning when Mamori emerged from the black sheets. At first she didn’t realize where she was. Why wasn’t she in her hotel room?

The events of the night before returned to her memory. Given everything that had happened, Musashi had suggested she stay at the headquarters for the night, for her safety. He had given her Hiruma’s old room.

Remembering this detail Mamori found herself flustered and left the bed in a sudden rush.

She had finished dressing and was applying the final touches of her makeup when there was a knock on the door.

“Mamori?” said a female voice that she hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Suzuna…?” Mamori said timidly, opening the door.

A small woman with blue hair threw herself in her arms with a joyful cry.

“It’s been a while,” Mamori said, tightening her arms around her.

Taki Suzuna was a well-known reporter who had tried to infiltrate Deimon with the intention of doing an exclusive report on the gang. She was quickly found out by Monta, however, so her plan fell apart. But she ended up falling in love with Sena, the only one able to keep up with her in the long chase through the city, and Hiruma had trusted her when he saw she wasn’t a threat to the gang.

Rather, her numerous press contacts proved quite useful for keeping public opinion distanced from the business of the underworld.

Suzuna held the new morning paper in her hands.

“I left work to buy some papers,” she said. “Sena contacted me at three in the morning, and I made it to press just in time for them to publish the article. Look, it made the front page!”

Mamori looked at the article.

“You made the explosion at the Taiyou cultural centre out to be… a robbery by an organized group of shady collectors?” she said, scanning the page quickly. 

“Sure did,” Suzuna replied, dragging her into the hallway. “If anyone knew one of the major gangs had done it, it would be civil war!”

They entered the lobby of the headquarters, where they ran into Sena.

“Suzuna!” he said, stopping brusquely. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I came to give my respects to the boss,” she replied. “And now that I’m here, I swear I’m going to kill you for daring to wake me up in the middle of the night!”

“But… but it wasn’t me!” Sena raised his hands to defend himself, embarrassed. “It’s Musashi who told me to…”

“Hey! What’re you doing, making such a racket so early in the morning!?” Juumonji growled as he opened the door with a bag of instant noodles and a carton of juice.

Behind him, Kuroki, Toganou, Kurita and Komosubi carried various groceries and an enormous box.

“Ah! Mamori,” Kurita said, approaching her. “We found this on the doorstep this morning.”

The young woman looked uncertainly at the box. It was long and rectangular, and full of holes.

Monta was just arriving. “What is it?” he asked.

“How would I know?” Kuroki replied with annoyance.

“It’s heavy, anyway.” Toganou said, putting the box down on the floor.

A letter was taped to it, addressed to the leader of Deimon. Still perplexed, she handed it to Suzuna who worked to remove the tape. Everyone was gathered around her out of curiosity when Musashi appeared in the doorway, asking himself what was going on.

At the same moment, Suzuna had opened the envelope. Scanning the page, her eyes widened with fright.

“Wait, Mamori, don’t open it…!”

It was too late. Mamori had already opened the flap of the box. She backed away suddenly with a cry of horror and fell to the ground. Musashi rushed toward her and Suzuna helped Mamori stand.

All eyes were on the contents of the box.

“Horrible…” Juumonji said.

“How could they go so far?” Kurita wept.

“Fumo…” Komosubi agreed.

Slowly, Suzuna held out the letter to Mamori, who took it with a trembling hand.

_ A little welcome present for the new head of Deimon. _

_ Kindly meet us tomorrow afternoon at the Nagas territory to discuss the altercation last night. _

_ Please be so kind as to dutifully respond to our invitation, otherwise we will be forced to take drastic measures. _

It was signed with the dragon that was the emblem of the Shinryuuji Nagas. Mamori and Musashi exchanged a look before turning back to the box.

Inside, gagged and her face covered in bruises, lay Koharu Wakana, the manager of the Oujou gang and wife of Takami Ichirou, unconscious.

“Bring her inside,” Mamori decided, praying her voice sounded firm. “And Sena… Call Takami immediately... and someone call a doctor. Right away!”

.

.

.


	9. Chapter 9

“She is going to be alright, it shouldn’t be long before she wakes up,” the doctor assured Mamori, standing to face her. “She simply needs rest. But if she vomits in the next few hours, call me immediately.”

Mamori nodded and accompanied the doctor to the parlor, leaving Suzuna at Koharu’s bedside. 

Takami Ichirou was sitting straight as a rail. When he saw the doctor, he rose.

Worried, Sena asked timidly, “How is she?”

The doctor repeated his diagnosis. Takami’s fists tightened.

“Monta, see the doctor to the door, please,” Mamori said.

She took a seat in front of the head of Oujou and gestured for him to sit. “Given the circumstances, I think we both have sufficient cause to attack the Nagas.”

Sakuraba cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I don’t think that would be a good idea. The Nagas now possess enough weaponry to take on all the gangs in the city.”

“What do you mean by that?” Mamori said, raising her eyebrows.

Shin, Sakuraba and Takami exchanged a look, hesitant to speak.

Suzuna appeared, interrupting them.

“She’s awake,” she told Takami.

He nodded and left them immediately. Mamori turned her attention to Shin and Sakuraba.

“Listen, we have already proven our loyalty to you in the past. We’re ready to help you, as you are well aware. The outcome of these events could have dire consequences for all the gangs in Tokyo. If you know something, it’s best you tell us.”

Sakuraba lowered his head with a sigh. “Through our research in the Amino Cyborgs underground laboratories, we developed a new type of tear gas, a more powerful type with greater side effects. We kept pushing the research and ended up with a prototype of a toxic gas. A gas that attacks the respiratory passages, burns the eyes and skin… and is mortal within a few hours.”

Mamori’s eyes widened. “You created… a  _ weapon of mass destruction _ ?”

“Make no mistake,” Sakuraba rushed to reassure her, raising his hands. “We have never had the intention of using it against anyone. The gas has an extraordinary ability to spread. Once released, it would be impossible to control. Exposure would destroy all of us, including Oujou.

“That’s why we decided to hide the last sample in the most inaccessible and well-guarded place in Tokyo.”

“Taiyou…” Mamori finished for him, as everything became clear. “That’s why the Nagas imported the bombs, and why the Dinosaurs attacked Taiyou. They wanted to steal your prototypes.”

Sakuraba nodded.

“Taiyou didn’t have access to our safes, as per our arrangement with them. Now that the Nagas and the Dinosaurs have such a weapon in their hands, I don’t know what will happen. The gas was put in special hermetically-sealed containers, but if I believe the rumours about the attack on Kyoushin’s port, it seems that the Nagas acquired materials that might free them.”

Mamori and Musashi exchanged a look that ended in a sigh.

“Bombs, specifically,” Musashi replied. “Imported from America and smuggled in through Kyoushin. But we intercepted them. And when the Nagas learned that our leader was a woman, they tried to intimidate her by attacking your… manager.”

Sakuraba pressed his lips together. Mamori stood, pale as a sheet.

“Please excuse me.”

“One question,” Shin said, looking her straight in the eyes. “Do the Nagas know… that Anezaki Mamori rules over the Deimon gang?”

Monta could not hold back a yelp while Musashi squinted at Shin. Shin watched Mamori, who did not move. Then she pulled off her wig and said in a calm voice, “If that were the case, I think Hiruma would have quite a few problems.”

“We thought he was planning to infiltrate the Nagas when we saw him with them,” Shin retorted. “But given that he has been with them for some time now, and that he let this happen, I doubt he is very concerned about the fate of his former gang.”

Mamori tensed and stepped out of the room, leaving Musashi to take care of the rest. She slowed as she approached the room where Koharu was resting. The door was ajar, and she could hear Takami’s stern voice. 

“I just picked up your ticket. I want you to leave Japan immediately.”

“Takami, it was just a little scuffle,” replied the sweet voice of his partner. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. I’ve been in more danger than this before.”

“Exactly, and it’s too much. I don’t want to put you in any more danger. Who knows what they could have done to you! You will leave Oujou immediately! As the head of the gang, I order you to leave.”

Takami’s voice seemed completely out of control, which only accentuated the guilt Mamori felt at eavesdropping on their conversation without them knowing. But Koharu sounded amused.

“Really? You can manage all of Oujou without me? You’ve never been good at that kind of thing. No one would be able to take my place and you know it.” 

“I’ll find someone…”

“Takami…”

Koharu’s voice was gentle this time.

“I know that you’re worried. But I agreed to be with you knowing that as a gang member, it wouldn’t always be easy.”

Hearing these words, Mamori’s heart skipped a beat, and tears came to her eyes. Unlike herself, in spite of everything, Koharu’s love for Takami was so strong she was prepared to defy the dangers. And Takami seemed truly concerned about her, unlike Hiruma.

“I don’t want them to be able to get to me through you.”

“Don’t worry about me… I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make them pay dearly!”

Mamori heard footsteps and ducked quickly into the hallway of rice paper doors that led to the Japanese garden. She saw Takami walk away in long strides, his hands balled into fists.

Letting out a breath of relief, she held the wall as she tried to control her pulse. She felt nostalgic, and jealous. She and Hiruma had been young at the time. Immature, stubborn, impatient. Maybe things would have been different today…

But Shin’s words came back to her.

_ \-- I doubt he is very concerned about the fate of his former gang. _

It was true. Hiruma was an unmatched strategist, but nonetheless, she couldn’t understand why he had made her come back to become the boss of Deimon. He knew she had no experience in this world, especially considering everything he had done to keep her away from it.

Through the rice paper door, she saw the shadows of Kurita, Komosubi, and the Haha brothers training in the yard. Their voices could be clearly heard through the wall.

“How could the Nagas beat up a poor girl?” Juumoji asked, disgusted.

“Yeah, she was messed up bad. They must really want to show our boss they ain’t gonna play nice just ‘cuz she’s a woman,” Toganou added. “Eh! Stop gettin’ crumbs on my manga, you bastard!”

“Bastard?! You better watch it, you…”

“But even still,” Kurita raised his voice. It seemed low and sad. There was a silence, and Mamori guessed that everyone was looking at Kurita.

“I think Hiruma must have changed a lot, if he allowed something like that,” the guard concluded, his head low.

“Kurita…” Sena said sadly.

“Well, he did try to kill us,” Kuroki noted in an irritated voice.

“That bastard must’ve been planning to ditch us once he found another gang,” Juumonji grumbled.

“Waah??” Kurita cried in a panic.

“It… it’s not true!” Sena tried to calm him. “Hiruma would never do something like that!”

“Fumo fumo!” Kumosubi agreed. “Hiruma… Deimon’s boss!”

“Eh? Are you joking?” Juumonji shot back at Sena. “You told me yourself, Hiruma fired on you, and he was aiming at your head instead of your legs!”

“He openly told you the Nagas were more profitable!” Toganou added.

“And why’d he put his ex-wife in charge when he knows full well she ain’t capable of runnin’ a gang?” Kuroki asked.

Mamori froze. Had Hiruma given her control of Deimon so she could lead it to its ruin? Shaken, she distractedly looked at the signet ring with the black stone that hung from her neck. Had Hiruma made her come back out of vengeance, so that she could go down along with the others as payback for their tumultuous past? No… Hiruma wasn’t like that.

As she looked at the ring, her eye caught something she hadn’t noticed before. Squinting at it for a moment, she quickly straightened and made her way to the basement, where Yukimitsu’s laboratory was located.

She took the magnifying lamp and put the ring under the glass.

Just like Hiruma’s wedding band, there was something engraved on the interior of the ring.

A symbol of three keys that crossed each other, followed by a series of numbers and three ellipsis dots. What was it? A long series of number followed.

At that moment, Yukimitsu entered the room.

“Oh, Mamori… The Oujou members just left. Takami asked us to watch Koharu until she…”

“Yukimitsu do you know this symbol?” 

The young man put on his glasses and frowned. He typed for a moment on his computer and let out a skeptical noise.

“If I’m not mistaken, it’s the logo of a Swiss bank. The series of numbers is probably for an account, from what I can see.”

“A bank?” Mamori repeated skeptically. “In Switzerland?”

“They have a branch in Japan as well, in the Yuhi Guts quarter, if I’m not mistaken,” Yukimitsu replied. “It’s neutral territory, no one ever goes there.”

Mamori sat in silence for a moment, then took the ring before rushing from the laboratory.

.

oOo

.

Hiruma was sitting in a leather armchair, his feet on the desk, polishing his machine gun. He studied the enormous metal cases before him which bore the emblem of Oujou.

“You see that?” Agon said as he entered. “A game changer for our gang. Now we’re the most powerful and we can crush all those bastards!”

He stopped before the window and admired the view.

“Soon, all the gangs in the city will be under our control. We’re going to need manpower to hold the reigns. I’ll leave Deimon to you, if you want it. Once we’ve cleaned out the trash, I’ll give you all of the South.”

Dokubari Scorpions, Zokugaku Cameleons and Deimon.

Hiruma broke a smirk and then smiled sadistically.

“Hey fuckin’ dreadlocks! Don’t you think you’re a bit broke to aim that high?”

“Hmm.. I wouldn’t be so sure,” Agon replied. “You aren’t the only one with a safe in the Yuhi Guts quarter.”

Hiruma stopped polishing his weapon and raised his eyes toward Agon. With his usual paranoia, he had really pushed his search everywhere. The fuckin’ midget Ikkyuu had certainly been busy. Hiruma smiled and put up his weapon, leaning it against his shoulder.

“Oh? You want to know what I’m keeping, is that it?”

“What reason would you have to hide it from me?” Agon responded.

Hiruma turned his attention toward the cases from Oujou.

“Devil Diamond,” he said in a clear voice.

“The jewel of the Cupids?” Agon replied. “A red diamond of inestimable value. It was thought to have disappeared years ago, but we didn’t know you were in on it…”

He chuckled.

“It’s perfect. We’re broke. Give us the diamond.”

“Kekekeke… Fuckin’ dreadlocks, if I could do that, I would have been the first to make off with it. You need a fuckin’ code.”

Agon looked at him, suspicious.

“You created the account, and you don’t have the code?” he said in a menacing voice.

Hiruma closed his eyes and returned to a time long past.

.

.

.

oOo

.

_ Flashback: Many years earlier _

.

“Kekekekeke…”

“What are you doing here still?”

Musashi sighed seeing Hiruma seated on the deserted locker room bench. Two briefcases were in front of him. One was locked, while the other was open, containing a monstrous quantity of bills that he was counting with his sadistic laugh.

“You’re still fixing the Poseidon’s matches? You know it’s not just the league keeping a close eye on the refs! The slightest suspicion of corruption, and the careers of dozens of people could be destroyed! And Kakei will never let us access the maritime port again!”

“Kekekek…. Fuckin’ blue eyes will have even more problems if he loses our little wager.”

Hiruma gave a vigorous kick, opening the briefcase that was still shut. Looking inside, Musashi was shocked.

“It’s… the Cupid’s Devil Diamond, right? How… how do you have it? Doburoku always told us it had been lost for good!”

“Kekeke… that fuckin’ alcoholic will have to thank me. Another victory for Deimon.”

Musashi sighed. Finally he said, “You’re at it again. Doburoku could have come to an agreement with them. You didn’t need to do all that.”

He nonetheless took the two briefcases in his hands and turned to leave. “Get out of here. It isn’t our territory.”

Hiruma chewed on his gum without making a move to leave. He wore a satisfied smile, and stopped for a last look at the empty locker room.

“Tch…” he muttered as he turned to leave.

The game had ended and the entire stadium was deserted, aside from a few employees cleaning the stands and emptying the garbage. Hiruma gazed out at the field. The team belonging to the Kyoushin gang, the Poseidons, hadn’t had any problem winning the match, but he had spread a false report that one of the linebackers had been brutally attacked by delinquents. The bettors had quickly changed sides, including the one in possession of the Devil’s Diamond.

It had been an exhilarating match nonetheless. For a moment, Hiruma wondered whether, if he wasn’t fixing matches, maybe he would be out there on the field, using his genius for strategies in American football rather than doing what he was doing.

He saw a shadow following him to his left. Musashi on his case again?

“Hiruma Youichi?”

He raised his head, and the person who spoke cut him off, standing in front of him. It was a young girl who didn’t seem entirely Japanese, based on her blue eyes and red hair. She was staring at the machine gun in his hand, as she held a stack of folders. Her name was pinned to her chest: Anezaki Mamori, Fraud Control Committee.

A real daddy’s girl with her tailored suit and stern glare. A good girl who never strayed from the beaten path.

“What are you looking at, fuckin’ ginger?” he said. “Get lost.”

She opened her eyes wide, shocked by his foul language. Then, finally, she opened her mouth.

“No one from the fraud control committee would come face you, so I’ve come to do it for them! You are accused of extorting a referee and spreading false rumours in the betting community.”

Hiruma cracked a smile before picking up his machine gun and removing the security latch. Anezaki Mamori gulped, but maintained her glare without retreating.

“And, so what?” Hiruma said with his sadistic smile. “What are you going to do?”

“These are criminal acts, and actions will be taken to prohibit you from gambling. Legal sanctions also apply…” 

She seemed so nice, so innocently following the rules. She spouted pretty phrases hoping that he would apologize and stop. He’d show to show her.

Mamori jumped and ducked instinctively when he shot a round into the air to shut her up.

“Kekeke, you’ve got guts coming here. But don’t get in my way again.”

Mamori opened the file in her hand.

“Fine, if you don’t want to cooperate with the legal sanctions, we will be obligated to take the necessary measures.”

“Kekeke, I never would have guessed the committee would have such pathetic staff,” Hiruma cackled. “You think you can arrest me?”

Mamori had been watching the merry-go-round that Hiruma Youichi had created for some time, as he played with members of the committee like mere pawns. American football teams were financed by gangs, matches rigged, referees paid-off… committee members threatened… she had promised herself she would do something. Experience and anger had taught her one thing: you must take advantage of any weak point. Even if it meant taking risks. So Mamori held in her breath before playing her joker card.

“I wasn’t speaking of you, but of one of our most compulsive gamblers, Hiruma Yuya.”

It only took a fraction of a second to know she had opened Pandora’s box. Hiruma turned his back on her, but stopped. Mamori tensed her hands on her files, wondering if he was going to kill her.

“Hiruma Yuya was able to win nearly a million yen over the course of last year. All in cash, naturally,” she said, consulting the papers. “Today, he placed a million on victory for the Poseidons. Which he lost, of course.”

Hiruma looked at her over his shoulder, but Mamori was certain that his demonic aura had become more menacing, nearly suffocating.

“If members of the fraud control committee were made aware of this, they would open an inquiry without delay,” Mamori continued. 

This time Hiruma turned to face her. One finger itched to press the trigger of his machine gun. Mamori felt he was on the verge of killing her when she made her proposal:

“But if I can be assured that I will not find any gang members in the locker room, inside the stadium, or within proximity of our referees, I will ban Hiruma Yuya from our betting stands.”

She thought she saw the shadow of gratitude in Hiruma’s eyes as he stared at her, unblinking. But he had a harsh expression on his face.

“Even if Deimon withdraws from the wagers, I still want my men to be able to enter the stadium,” he said.

Deimon… that must be the name of the gang. Mamori gripped her file again.

“Only if I can be assured that there will be no tampering and that they are only coming to enjoy the games.”

Hiruma chuckled and turned on his heels.

“Idiot,” he shot back over his shoulder. “If you want to eradicate corruption by blackmailing gang leaders, you won’t last two days before your fuckin’ ass will be thrown in the ocean. It’s better for you if Deimon is still able to enter the stadium.”

“To protect me?” Mamori asked.

He didn’t reply, but she had the impression that he was thanking her for banning his father, the compulsive gambler, from the stadium, despite the immense financial contribution he made to the league with his winnings. Mamori sighed. She only hoped that she wouldn’t have to brush shoulders with Hiruma Youichi any longer. The mobster gave her goosebumps.

.

.

oOo

.

.

And a lot had happened since then, Hiruma thought, realizing how different things would have been if he hadn’t lingered by the field that day.

“So?” Agon growled impatiently.

Hiruma raised his head.

“I don’t have the fuckin’ code. That fuckin’ woman does.”

.

.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 

.

.

The next morning, Koharu felt much better and decided she was well enough to return to Oujou.

The car had barely arrived at the headquarters when two men in black approached to accompany Koharu inside. Mamori acknowledged them with a nod and raised the tinted window. The manager of Oujou disappeared into the immense building, at the top of which Takami was unmistakably waiting for her.

After dropping her off, Mamori went to the neutral territory of the Yuhi Guts. Something was hidden there. Musashi had proved rather evasive when she had questioned him. She couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t know what was there, or because he didn’t want her to know. 

The bank was relatively quiet, and Mamori took control right away. Taken to the safety deposit box room, the manager took care of her in his office.

“I’m sorry,” he said when she gave him the long series of numbers. “Although you know the safe number, I can’t give you the contents.”

He typed a few moments at the dusty computer that was propelling hot air in Mamori’s face.

“But…” Mamori started to reply.

“You need the code,” the old man said.

“The code?” she repeated.

She had examined the bloody underworld ring from every angle, but she hadn’t found anything except the account number. Declaring defeat, she left the office of the bank and returned to the car where Yukimitsu waited.

“I’m ashamed to do this kind of thing,” she said as she handed him the black USB key embellished with the drawing of a red demon head.

“Don’t worry,” he tried to reassure her. “Hiruma also used this kind of approach. He was the one who configured these keys.”

Cerberus grunted at the name of his master, and Mamori put him on the seat opposite her so he could be more comfortable. Yukimitsu inserted the USB key into the computer.

“I think you were able to insert it into the central unit long enough that it absorbed the data we’re after, but it seems there was little activity on the account. This safe was opened once six years ago, and then again one year later, according to the records. Since then, nothing. The bank doesn’t specify the contents, however.”

“But it’s strange,” she said. “This safe must contain something valuable. Why didn’t Hiruma use whatever is in the safe to bail out Deimon? The gang was broke when I arrived.”

Yukimitsu had a disappointed expression. He consulted his watch. “Musashi told us to be back before noon. The meeting with the Nagas is only in a few hours.”

Mamori grimaced and nodded. “Take me to Dokubari Scorpions. Immediately.”

.

.

.

The territory of the Dokubari Scorpions was one of debauchery: pachinko parlors, escorts, drugs… Unlike other gangs, whose borders were invisible, hidden under the affluent, bustling city of Tokyo, the borders of Dokubari district, and its status as a home of organized crime, were clearly marked for all to see.

Mamori did not feel safe here, especially considering she had not asked anyone to escort her. Everyone believed she was returning directly from taking Koharu back to Oujou. And Yukimitsu wasn’t exactly the fighter type.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the limousine stopped in front of a gaudy and noisy building, which appeared to be packed despite the fact it was only ten in the morning.

Mamori stepped out and confidently made her way to the doors of the temple of luxury. She made no effort to avoid the people in her path as she entered, searching for the person she had come for.

He was at the back, seated on a sofa in front of innumerable bottles of alcohol, and in pleasant company, apparently.

Kanagushi Sasuke was roaring with laughter, possibly under the influence of questionable substances. He blinked as he watched Mamori brazenly sit herself down in front of him.

“Well, check out this fine specimen,” he said in a rasping voice. “Come over here, gorgeous, don’t be shy.”

Mamori did not bother to reply. Instead she held up the signet ring of Deimon. The smile on the face of the Dokubari boss disappeared quickly.

“Get lost,” he grunted at the two women beside him. They exchanged a look before complying. “So that bastard Hiruma ain’t man enough to come here himself now?”

“Update your information,” Mamori shot back. “I am the new head of Deimon.”

Kanagushi Sasuke eyed her, surprised and suspicious. He wore a diabolical smile.

“So? To what do I owe this honour?

Mamori leaned back against the couch, crossed her legs and pulled something from the pocket of her blazer. The man in front of her with the scorpion braid blanched.

“I need a favour,” Mamori said, the threat book in plain view. “I suppose in your case, no bother in asking nicely, right ?”

Kanagushi Sasuke grated his teeth. The new boss of Deimon was turning out to be almost as much of a pain in the ass as her predecessor.

.

.

.

OoO

.

.

When Mamori left the casino with her telephone to her ear, the limousine was parked in a deserted area. Walking quickly, tugging at her wig to pull it back in place, she heard a voice behind her. The voice of Kanagushi.

“It’s still pretty risky, isn’t it? Coming to enemy territory without an escort? A rookie mistake. A fatal one.”

She turned. There stood the entire Scorpions gang with Kanagushi at their head, a euphoric laugh almost shaking him. He was probably still under the influence of some drug.

“Mamori!” she heard behind her.

Yukimitsu threw her something that she caught in mid-air. One of Hiruma’s old submachine guns, with two grenades attached to the gun grip. Benefiting from the four years she had spent taking care of her ex-husband’s weapons, she loaded the gun effortlessly and pointed it at the group in front of her.

Kanagushi only cackled harder. He couldn’t stop.

“As if a woman could stop the entire gang!”

Mamori stepped back. She drew a grenade and threw it into the group. It exploded. And when she yelled, she almost had the impression that it wasn’t her voice but Hiruma’s.

“CERBERUS!!!!!”

With a demonic roar, the hellhound leaped from the car and over the flames caused by the grenade to attack Kanagushi. The gang boss jumped back, pushed the dog away, and his bodyguard stepped in front of him. Cerberus backed off slightly, growling.

“A woman and a dog,” the boss of the Scorpions. “We’ll take care of this in one bite.”

Suddenly, they heard bullet fire behind them. Mamori narrowed her eyes to see what was happening and saw Cerberus rushing back toward her. Two seconds later, an immense plume of flames was making the Scorpions scream. They fell to the ground, unconscious, their clothing scorched.

 _What is…?_ Mamori thought.

“TOUCHDOWN!!! YA-HA!!”

She turned her wide eyes toward those she had last met a few weeks earlier. Still just as arrogant. But he no longer wore his prisoner’s uniform. He was frightening.

Hiruma still held his flamethrower as he watched her, that eternal sadistic smile on his lips. Upon seeing him, Mamori had the impression that the demon’s avidity had sucked out all the good in him that she had struggled to see over all those years. 

Because today, Agon, Ikkyuu and five other Nagas were beside him.

.

.

OoO

.

. 

“Mu… Musashi! Come to Dokubari right away! The Nagas are…”

Yukimitsu’s panicked voice shouting into the limousine telephone hardly reached to Mamori, who could only see the man in front of her. He popped his chewing gum bubble and called:

“Cerberus.”

The dog and Mamori exchanged a look. The animal seemed disoriented by the idea of joining his master in a gang that had always been considered an enemy. But Hiruma did not need to call twice. Slowly, the dog left Mamori to join his master.

“Let’s just say we came for a simple, routine visit,” Agon said with a smile on his lips. “And we run into our four o’clock. Nice shot, Hiruma.”

Mamori spoke.

“Hiruma Youichi.”

He turned toward her. She behaved as if he were a perfect stranger.

“Why blow away the Scorpions for me?” she demanded.

“Kekekeke… you don’t really believe I did it for you, fuckin’ replacement? The only thing that matters is victory. Why let these losers fight a gang we are about to crush ourselves?”

He was talking like Agon. Mamori’s grip tightened around her submachine gun 

“You talk too much,” retorted the criminal with the dreadlocks, stepping forward. “This Deimon trash won’t be around long. She has already seen what we can do to women.”

At the mention of Koharu, Mamori put her finger on the trigger, ready to fire. Yukimitsu appeared beside her.

“Leave,” he said in a clear voice.

“Leave?” Ikkyuu repeated. “Why? Soon, Deimon will be ours. I hope they enjoy my little presents.”

Horrified, Mamori watched him look at his watch and begin a countdown.

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1… Boom!”

“What have you done to Deimon?” Mamori asked, distraught. She saw Agon burst into laughter.

“I don’t think your friends will be coming to save you anytime soon. So if you want to stay alive, I advise you return the bombs.”

Mamori turned back to Hiruma.

“Why?” she demanded. “Kurita, Musashi, Sena, Monta, Juumonji, Kuroki, Toganou, Yukimitsu… and all the others! Why do this? What was your reason?”

He understood the hidden meaning of the question perfectly well. Using sign language would be too risky in such a meeting.

_Why did you call me back from the United States, Hiruma? And why would you abandon your friends?_

“Kekekeke… fuckin’ replacement. We always go to the gang we get the most out of. What was I going to do with a territory full of fuckin’ broke midgets? Well, they’re not broke anymore, evidently.”

Mamori’s eyes widened. _No, impossible…_

Hiruma continued. “You did a fuckin’ good job. _Fuckin’ manager.”_

He cocked his gun and fired at Deimon’s limousine. The tires burst.

“Alright,” Agon cut in. “It’s time to take Deimon. Now.”

“Agon,” Ikkyuu began slowly. “Let’s deal with this diplomatically.

“Why?” Agon shot back with a chuckle. “The lamb is in the wolves’ territory. Let’s finish them, along with this woman.”

Hiruma pointed his weapon at Mamori who raised her own.

“Take her out,” Agon said.

“No,” Ikkyuu retorted.

“Don’t talk back to…”

Hiruma lowered his gun and muttered, “Tch… too late.”

A hoard of motorcycles swarmed between the two gangs, raising a cloud of dust. Coughing, Mamori looked around her and saw dozens of green and purple motorcycles. If there was a gang more dangerous than Dokubari, it would be the one bordering it, deserted of almost any form of life. The few survivors of the population were delinquents and lowlifes.

“You’re…” Yukimitsu began.

“Zokugaku Chameleons,” Agon finished for him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, Nagas,” spat Habashira Rui, their leader. “Back off.”

“Unsui will take care of everything this afternoon,” Ikkyuu insisted. “Let’s go.”

Mamori watched the head of the Chameleons turn toward her and toss her a helmet.

“Hey! Get on!”

She climbed up behind him as Yukimitsu took his place behind one of the others. The motorcycles revved their engines and tore away. In the rear-view mirror, Mamori could still see Hiruma’s sadistic smile, the one he always wore when he saw the face of one of his slaves break down.

_How could you!?!_

.

.

OoO

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.

“So, no one was hurt?” Yukimitsu asked. “Ikkyuu made it seem like he had planted something to kill you.”

“That’s true,” Juumonji replied, tossing a soda can in the garbage.

“The explosives that they usually use to set off their M-13 against enemy gangs, so they don’t leave any traces,” Sena said in a sad voice. “There was one near the convenience store where these three always go, one at Kurita and Komosubi’s favourite restaurant, one…”

“If Monta hadn’t intercepted them, we would have been killed,” Kurita interjected, biting into a cream puff thoughtfully.

Monta sighed and looked at the door that Mamori had disappeared through as soon as she had returned.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Suzuna recalled the time she had asked the same question. She could still hear the voice of ‘You-nii’.

_She isn’t the kind of woman who mopes. She’ll be out in a moment._

Kurita turned to Yukimitsu. “So… Hiruma is…”

The computer engineer hung his head. “I didn’t want to believe it, but at this point, I think he is really a Naga. He would have killed us.”

Everyone stared at him.

“It’s impossible!” Sena said. “Hiruma would never let us down.”

“It’s true!” Monta added. “After all, he sent Mamori here to help us, right? He must have a plan.”

“It’s true,” Yukimitsu replied. “But it wasn’t the plan we thought it was.”

.


	11. Chapter 11

Alone in the dark, Mamori was sitting on the bed with her head low. The encounter with Hiruma still danced before her eyes.

She had never been able to understand why Hiruma had made her head of Deimon. And now, she wished she never knew. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I am really… an idiot,” she said with a tearful smile.

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.

_ Flash back _

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.

“I think the only thing left is to sign it,” the divorce lawyer said timidly.

He felt insignificant and wished he could sink through the floor. In the ten years of his career, he was used to divorces. Between the couples who argued, the ones who wept, the ones who felt regret and got back together, the ones who cast dark, furious glares at one another… he thought he had seen everything. He thought he could keep control in any situation.

But he had never seen anything like this.

At his left, the woman with a tailored black suit and a dress with red hair was sitting with her legs crossed, looking at her phone, while the man on his right had his feet on the table and… a machine gun?!

Finally putting down her phone, Mamori glanced at the divorce contract and scanned it. Her eyes stopped on a particular point and she turned to the lawyer.

“Would you kindly give us a moment alone, please?”

“Eh… I…” the lawyer hesitated.

“She told you to get lost, fuckin’ lawyer,” Hiruma told him, without taking his eyes off the woman.

The poor man stood, trembling, then bowed and practically ran from the room. Once he had gone, Hiruma took out a piece of paper folded in four and tossed it on the desk. “Tch…”

“You’re leaving me half Deimon’s earnings?” Mamori asked. “I want nothing to do with them. Or you. I don’t want your dirty money.”

“Kehkehkeh… it’s not like I have a choice,” Hiruma said. “Just get over yourself and take it, fuckin’ wife. You know perfectly well I’m going to win in the end. I always win.”

He closed his eyes. He heard Mamori sign the contract, nearly tearing the page with the quill of the pen. He heard her stand, take the paper and reply:

“No, not this time. Farewell, Youichi.”

And the door slammed. Hiruma made a bubble with his chewing gum and opened his eyes to gaze upon the signed contract. On the page, the corner of the signature blurred. Due to a tiny tear.

“Tch,” he said. “Fuckin’ ex-wife, you have to cause problems right up to the very end.” 

Then he signed it as well .

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.

OoO

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.

“So Hiruma had her come back… for the money?” Sena asked.

“Yes,” Yukimitsu replied, his head lowered.

“During their divorce, Hiruma had left Mamori half Deimon’s profits,” Musashi recalled. “It was also a safety measure, since putting the money in Mamori’s name kept it out of the crosshairs of the hackers of other gangs. She also became a life-line, if need be.” 

The core members of Deimon collectively shook their heads.

“Poor Mamori…” Suzuna said in a sad voice.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Musashi told them. “We have to meet Unsui now.”

“I agree,” they heard Mamori’s voice say.

Everyone turned. The boss of Deimon wore a fitted red dress, her wig, flawless makeup, and contact lenses -- which did not hide her cold, empty glare.

“Monta,” she said, crossing into the room.

“Y..yes?” he replied, still shocked at her appearance.

“I want you on the roof. If Ikkyuu is above us and tries anything, I want you to stop him immediately. Sena, go with him.”

The two young men exchanged a glance before nodding slowly. Mamori turned to Kurita.

“You come with me. Komosubi, Juumonji, Kuroki and Toganou, too. If anything happens, you are the reinforcements.”

No one moved until Musashi raised his voice. “You heard the boss! Get to work!”

At his order, everyone separated. Musashi approached her, but Mamori didn’t leave him time to speak. “Let’s go finish this. I have no intention of letting anyone destroy Deimon.”

Musashi had a satisfied smile as he left. Yukimitsu was about to leave as well when Mamori spoke.

“Take Ishimaru and Natsuhiko with you. I have a mission for you at the Scorpions. You will get something for me. Make sure no one sees you.”

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OoO

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.

Unsui looked at the woman standing before him, the one everyone was talking about. Finally, he was meeting the new face of Deimon. A mysterious one, between the wig, the contacts and the excessive make-up.

“We meet at last,” he said simply. “After all this time.”

“So, you are the boss of the Nagas.”

Unsui nodded and studied her face.

Musashi was beside Mamori. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Fortunately, Hiruma was not there, or Mamori might have had difficulty keeping her poker face.

Agon, on the other hand, did not hesitate to make the atmosphere particularly uncomfortable. While his brother looked at Mamori to try to guess her identity, Agon eyed her in a completely indecent manner.

“Returning to our problem, I think it is time that you give us the stolen cargo,” Unsui said. “You were in the port of Kyoushin illegally.”

“You were as well, I believe,” Mamori retorted. “Our business is not your concern.”

“And vice versa,” Unsui fired back. “I have every right to attack you.” 

“Fufufu… strong headed, I like it…” Agon chuckled.

Unsui glanced at his brother and let out a long sigh.

“Agon, the Hakushuu Dinosaurs will be here soon.”

His brother understood the message, but for once did not try to argue. After one last look at Mamori, he left the private room. Unsui sighed again.

“I believe I heard that you illegally entered our territory, while we never went illegally into Nagas’ territory,” Musashi said. “The Nagas also tried to attack us on multiple occasions. We demand compensation.”

Unsui let out a laugh and said, “Compensation? I think you know my brother and his impulsiveness. If you delay with our merchandise too long, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold him back. And we have the ex-boss of Deimon with us…”

“Is that a threat?”

“More like a warning. In a battle you would be at a serious disadvantage. I’d like to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.”

Musashi and Mamori exchanged a glance. Unsui leaned into the back of the couch before adding: “Knowing that I do not use the same methods as Agon, I advise you to reach an agreement with me… while you can.”

“What are you proposing?” Musashi asked.

“I only want my merchandise,” Unsui replied.

“Fine,” Mamori replied.

The response stunned the two men who turned toward her in surprise.

“You said yourself, it’s in our interest to negotiate with you. But I have one condition.”

Unsui raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you are in a position to impose conditions.”

“Considering the damages caused by Ikkyuu in our territory, without even taking into consideration Wakana Koharu, I think that we are,” Mamori replied. “I demand financial compensation for the damages caused in Deimon.”

The tension in Unsui’s face relaxed slightly and the trace of a smile appeared. “That’s all? Done. How much?”

.

.

OoO

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.

Agon was driving like a maniac, barely missing cars and pedestrians alike. Beside him, Ikkyuu was hardly at ease.

“Agon,” he said seriously, “why are we doing this? We have Deimon anyway, if we go pick a fight now, it will cost us even more in compensation.”

The leader of the Nagas didn’t bother to reply but instead accelerated even more.

“Why not ask Hiruma the location of their HQ?” Ikkyuu went on. “Wouldn’t that be faster?”

“We still don’t know what might happen,” Agon said. “At the last minute, he might turn traitor. And I’m sure he knows that woman.”

If Hiruma had shown a flawless indifference during the encounter at the Scorpions, Agon wasn’t so sure about the woman. Her look had been cold as marble, but there had been emotion in her voice.

His telephone rang and he growled at Ikkyuu: “Answer it. If it’s Unsui, tell him I’m taking care of urgent business.”

Ikkyuu frowned. “The number’s blocked.”

When he answered he put the call on speaker. They heard a female voice say: “They aren’t at Deimon, if you’re looking for them. But we can make arrangements.”

The boss of the Nagas slammed on the brakes and looked at the phone. Ikkyuu stuttered, “This voice… it can’t be…” 

Agon grabbed the phone, switched it off speaker mode and got out of the car.

“How do you know this number?” he asked with a slight smile.

“That’s not important,” Mamori replied. “I already negotiated the purchase of the bombs from Unsui. But I doubt they will be much use without the detonator.”

Ago gazed at the buildings and said in a low, threatening voice, “You’re reckless, for a woman. If you’re playing with me, you know what I could do to you, right?”

“I don’t want to play with you, just make a deal. I think it would be more interesting than negotiating with Unsui.”

Agon remained silent a moment. He was beginning to enjoy this little game. This young woman who looked so frigid hid her hand well. And he liked it.

“What do you want? I’m prepared to make arrangements. But you know, if I'm shelling out I'll expect some perks too...”

There was a silence on the line, and the response surprised him.

“That is precisely what I am interested in, actually.”

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.

OoO

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.

Mamori hung up just before Musashi entered the small private dining room that she had stepped into to make her call. He held a briefcase and sighed.

“I managed to get half the amount before the delivery. We can maybe try talking to Seibu before the Nagas attack. What’s the plan?”

Mamori turned to him. “There is no plan. Let’s go.”

She passed in front of him and he followed her into the hallway that led to the exit of the restaurant. On the way out, Musashi passed Marco, the boss of the Dinosaurs, accompanied by his faithful bodyguard, Gaou. He glanced ahead toward Mamori. She seemed to stiffen, but kept walking until she had passed Marco’s entourage.

“So this is the new face of Deimon,” Marco noted. “I hope we will have a chance to get to know one another better.”

Mamori did not look at him. “You will forgive me for not sharing that hope.”

And she continued on her route. Marco grimaced and continued down the fall.

“Gaou, come,” he said simply.

His bodyguard hadn’t moved. He was watching the woman leave the restaurant. He had seen her before, that was certain. But where?

.


	12. Chapter 12

Musashi looked at Mamori, seated behind Hiruma’s desk. He could still picture the former head of Deimon sitting there, with his habit of putting his feet on top of the desk, sporting his infamous smile and his machine gun. But that image faded away little by little under his hazel eyes, giving way to that of his former boss’ ex-wife.

Mamori had crossed her long white legs, leaning on an elbow with her chin propped up under her thumb and index finger. The other hand hung carelessly off to the side. She stared out into nothingness as if her mind was wandering.

“What is the plan?” Musashi asked. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s quite simple.” Mamori did not look at him as she spoke. “The Nagas will attack if we don’t give them the bombs. I assigned Ishimaru, Yukimitsu and Taki to put them some place safe.”

“Some place safe?” Musashi repeated.

“Yes,” Mamori said. “At the Chameleons, to be precise.”

“At the Chameleons!?” Musashi said, stunned. “But... that’s a dangerous place!”

“And completely deserted,” Mamori replied. “It’s best that we not get innocent people involved. I would like you to do the hand off there. Be ready to leave tonight at eight.”

Musashi let out a deep sigh. The chances that Deimon would make it out alive was zero percent. He was tempted to voice his objections to the plan, but he couldn’t see any way for Deimon to pull through.

He bowed and left the room. The moment the door closed, Mamori snapped up her phone.

_Tonight. 8:30. Private room 03 at the Quintessence. Hakukshuu Dinosaurs territory._

She could almost see Agon’s Machiavellian smile.

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OoO

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.

“What are we doing to do?” Sena asked. “Mamori’s so dejected she’s almost ready to give in.”

“We couldn’t care less about her mood,” Juumonji replied.

“If Musashi is ready to go down with her, he’ll be doing it on his own,” Toganou added.

“We’ll make the Nagas suffer!” Kuroki declared.

Sena tried to hold them back with the help of Monta, but the other three were too strong. Kurita ran over and fell on them anxiously. 

“Stop! You’re going to get us in trouble!”

He was crushing everyone, including Sena and Monta, who were nearly suffocating.

“Everyone.”

It was Mamori’s voice.

Quickly they turned to face their boss. She handed them a suitcase.

“You will accompany Musashi during the transaction. All of you. Is that understood?”

She had a cold expression, so different from usual. It was as if the old Mamori had given way to a hard, merciless woman. As if Hiruma’s darkness had reached her and completely enveloped her.

They looked at her with sadness as she placed the suitcase before them and left.

“Mamori…” Sena said.

Juumonji stepped forward, took the suitcase and opened it. Everyone leaned in to see the contents, then exchanged a look.

Juumonji spoke in a low voice. “Ready for the last stand?”

They each nodded in agreement and prepared to leave. 

.

.

OoO

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_Flashback_

.

“You have a reservation?” the waitress wearing a tailored suit asked. “Under what name, may I ask?”

Mamori nodded and gave her maiden name: Anezaki. Hiruma hated using his own family name. Consulting her notebook, the waitress smiled and showed her to the small private room where she left her with a few refreshments.

Smoothing her dress with her palm, Mamori looked at the champagne with a smile. Would Hiruma come to celebrate their anniversary? He had seemed irritated on the phone, but surely he would come… wouldn’t he?

Little did she know how wrong she was. 

And little did she know that in only a few minutes, Rikiya Gaou would burst into the room to assault her. 

.

.

.

“Madame… Madame, can you hear me?”

Mamori blinked and turned her attention to the waitress who was staring at her with a worried look.

“Pardon me, you were saying?”

“I asked if you had made a reservation,” she said.

Mamori nodded and gave the name: Agon. She was guided down the hallway by the waitress, who was about to open a door when it was brutally thrown open by the head of the Nagas. He turned to the waitress and snapped: “We are not to be disturbed.”

The waitress stepped back in surprise, then hesitantly bowed with a fearful look. But he had already closed the door.

Mamori opened her mouth to remark on his lack of manners, but she told herself such comments would be wasted on this particular individual.

Agon let himself fall back into the couch, legs spread, both arms stretched across the back. He looked at her. “Hey, you’re not suddenly going to be a prude, are you?”

Mamori ignored him imperiously and said in a cold voice. “Where is the money?”

“You’re a gold digger, aren’t you?”

She didn’t reply, instead maintaining her stare. They faced off for a good ten seconds before Agon let out a sigh.

“Ah… aren’t you annoying…”

He grabbed the briefcase from the low table and unceremoniously swung it open. Some bills escaped and fluttered for a few seconds before falling to the floor.

Mamori looked at them, trying not to look at Agon approaching her. 

“You saw for yourself,” he said, leaning closer. “I’m a man of my word. Your turn.”

Mamori didn’t react. Agon leaned toward her a little more with a cruel smile. He reached forward… and took the briefcase containing the detonator from her hand.

“I see you’re a good girl after all,” he said in a mocking tone as he pulled the magnetic card from his vest pocket.

He inserted it into the slot in the briefcase and it opened. The remote detonator was the size of a mobile phone. Mamori watched as Agon closed the briefcase with a look of satisfaction before turning his eyes on her and then on the case of bills.

“You’re not gonna count your cash?” he asked.

Mamori remained unmoved, as if carved from marble, and Agon continued to try to provoke her.

“Ha! Don’t worry, I won’t tell your little friends that you sold them out for a couple miserable yens.”

.

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OoO

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.

“Musashi, what’s gonna happen when the Nagas show up?”

The right hand man of Deimon broke from his daydream and turned his gaze toward Monta. The other members of Deimon stopped unloading the metal cases and looked at the eldest among them. He sighed.

“We have to follow the orders we were given,” he said simply. “But tonight may be a decisive battle. Everyone needs to be in position.”

They all exchanged worried looks and made for their respective posts. Sena and Monta looked at one another and nodded before disappearing. 

Yukimitsu appeared at Musashi’s side. “Don’t worry. We’ll fight to win until the end.”

“Let’s hope so…” Musashi replied as he spotted two black vans entering the abandoned warehouse.

Unsui got out of the vehicle, followed shortly by his entourage. He stopped in front of Musashi, then glanced at the metal cases behind him, guarded by Kurita and Komosubi.

“I see you have been true to your word,” he said.

“The money, first. Then the delivery,” Musashi replied, tense.

Unsui smirked before nodding to Ikkyuu, who stepped into the space between his boss and Musashi. He opened a black briefcase and displayed the bundles of bills carefully placed inside to his enemy. Monta stepped forward, closed the briefcase and took it-- not without a dark look at his rival.

Musashi gestured to Kurita and Komosubi who moved aside to let Yamabushi and Yorime, two of the most brawny Nagas, put the cases in the vans.

“I see your boss didn’t bother to take care of this dirty business herself,” Unsui noted in a sour voice.

“That’s none of your concern,” Musashi replied dryly.

He held Unsui’s glare until the Nagas were ready to leave.

“Wait. Where is the other black briefcase?” asked the bald boss. “There was a briefcase with the metal cases.”

Musashi only blinked. It was true, he hadn’t thought to check for the briefcase. But to his surprise, Yukimitsu intervened.

“We put the briefcase in a secure location, which we will reveal once we’ve left the warehouse safe and sound.”

The declaration was so absurd that Yamabushi couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Who would have thought Deimon were such chickens!”

But a look from Unsui shut him up quickly.

“I am not in the habit of playing hide-and-seek,” he said. “Give us the detonator. Immediately. Or I will immediately turn your gang to ashes.” 

Some took out their revolvers, others their baseball bats. But Yukimitsu continued.

“Kill us if you want,” he stammered. “But you’ll never know where it is. If you want your weapons, I advise you to follow us.” 

There was an enormous tension between the two groups, but Unsui finally lowered his glare.

“Very well, we will follow you. But I warn you, one false move and you will be the first to go down.”

The staring contest ended as Deimon and the Nagas got into their respective vehicles. The door had barely closed when Musashi turned to Yukimitsu.

“What’s going on?” he rushed to ask him. “Why were we not informed?”

“Trust me,” Yukimitsu replied. Then he turned to the driver. “Kurita, when you leave the warehouse, make as if you are going to the Scorpions, understood? Drive as slowly as possible!”

He did as he was instructed. Musashi turned to Yukimitsu again.

“I don’t understand. I want an explanation.”

Yukimitsu closed his eyes briefly.

.

_Flashback_

.

Kanagushi Sasuke eyed her, surprised and suspicious. He wore a diabolical smile.

“So? To what do I owe this honour?

Mamori leaned back against the couch, crossed her legs and pulled something from the pocket of her blazer. The man in front of her with the scorpion braid blanched.

“I need a favour,” Mamori said, the threat book in plain view. “I imagine that, in your case, I don’t have to ask nicely. Do I?”

Kanagushi Sasuke grated his teeth. The new boss of Deimon was turning out to be almost as much of a pain in the ass as her predecessor.

.

.

.

“Take Ishimaru and Natsuhiko with you. I have a mission for you at the Scorpions. You will get something for me. Make sure no one sees you.”

.

_End of flashback_

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.

“You know the speciality of the Scorpions gang, don’t you, Musashi?” Yukimitsu asked. “They excel at manufacturing drugs, poisons and other toxic gases, and sedatives. Mamori sent an order for sedative gas with the Scorpions. It can be released by a remote activation mechanism and is very concentrated, so very powerful. A mere breath of it is the equivalent of a chloroform-soaked rag applied to the face for ten seconds.”

Musashi raised his eyebrows.

“Where is this gas?”

Yukimitsu showed him a small detonator device. Musashi’s eyes widened. He guessed the rest.

“Attached to the cases we gave the Nagas.”

The same moment he said it, Yukimitsu pressed the button on the remote detonator. Musashi turned his head suddenly toward the Nagas’ van behind them, which had begun to swerve dangerously.

“Kurita,” he said. “Turn around immediately. Stop near Juumonji’s car.”

The bodyguard did as he was told. The first van of the Nagas struck a utility post, the second collided with the first.

Soon Yukimitsu and Musashi exited their vehicle. The rest of Deimon got out of the other van.

“What’s this?” said Monta.

“What’s going on?” Sena asked brusquely.

“Sleeping gas,” Yukimitsu replied. “I brought masks, put them on before you go in.”

He gestured toward the trunk of the limousine with his chin.

“Hah?” Juumonji said in surprise.

“Hah?” Toganou added, shocked.

“Hah??” Kuroki exclaimed, thinking he was seeing things.

Yukimitsu tossed a mask to Kurita and Komosubi and asked them to retrieve the cases.

Musashi smiled. “Who would’ve thought this idea could have come from such a woman? She’s turned into Hiruma, playing dirty.”

“Where is she, by the way?” Sena asked.

“I don’t know,” Yukimitsu replied sincerely. “She said she would personally take care of the detonator. I haven’t received orders on what I need to do.”

“In any case, we need to get out of here fast,” Musashi decided. “With Agon and Hiruma still at large, who knows what could happen…”

The others froze and exchanged concerned looks. It was true. Hiruma was also a potential threat… wasn’t he?

A sound pulled them from their thoughts. Something rolled on the ground.

Sena turned. “Huh? What was that noise?”

Juumonji abruptly spun around and yelled: ”Run!!”

But suddenly four grenades exploded around them. Everyone fell to the ground, losing consciousness instantly. Musashi felt his ears ringing. He struggled to open his eyes and saw black shoes stepping toward him. Someone picked him up and he heard the distant voice of someone speaking directly into his ear.

“…sashi… eimon…”

He raised his head, recognizing the person speaking to him. He felt his lips form the name although he couldn’t hear it. 

“Marco…”

Marco of the Dinosaurs sighed.

“I can guess who’s marvelous idea it was to throw grenades? It would have been so much simpler to ambush them.”

He turned toward Gaô who had grabbed the frail and unconscious bodies of Sena and Monta in one hand to ceremoniously toss them in the Dinosaurs’ truck.

“Where is Agon?” Marco asked, lighting a cigarette. The jacket draped over his shoulders moved gently in the evening breeze.

Gaô wore a terrifying smile.

“He’s taking care of their boss…”

He grabbed a hold of Musashi and leaned so that his mouth was close to his ear to finish his sentence.

“… or should I say, Hiruma Mamori?”

Marco exhaled the smoke from his lungs with a satisfied smile. The evening was certainly going to be interesting.

.


	13. Chapter 13

_ A few hours earlier _

_. _

_. _

“Huh?”

Habashira Rui turned back toward Hiruma, who was standing with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t bother to repeat himself.

“I thought we had an agreement,” the head of the Chameleons persisted. “Doesn’t matter who shows his ugly face around here, I’ll kick his ass, pronto.”

“Fuckin’ chameleon, you’re always such a pain in the ass,” Hiruma smiled. “I’ll be needing you, so just be ready.”

“And what if I don’t give a fuck?” the biker replied.

Hiruma turned away. “If you want to be defeated by the Nagas and the Dinosaurs, then fine… kehkehkehkehkeh!”

He left the warehouse and looked out over the neutral territory. The end was near, and he could barely keep still. He bought a pack of cigarettes at a shop. Observing the city from a rooftop, he imagined all the things that must have happened in his absence: certainly the meeting between Mamori and Unsui, and of course the arrival of the Dinosaurs. If his calculations were correct, this would be the moment when…

His telephone rang.

“Hey, where’re you hiding?” said Agon.

“Tch…” the demon replied. “Finished already, fuckin’ dreadlocks?” 

“I don’t think you realize that you are still under surveillance by our bodyguards.”

“Kehkehkeh… I went to buy you some fuckin’ cigs, you should have been happy,” Hiruma chuckled.

He tossed the pack behind him and turned. “Tell your dog to bring them to you.”

Behind him, Ikkyuu had caught the packet with an icy glare. In his other hand was a 9mm with a silencer, pointed at the ground. Hiruma didn’t move an inch. On the phone, Agon continued:

“I only wanted to tell you that I no longer need you. Die, Hiruma.”

Ikkyuu raised his weapon and fired straight to his heart. Blood dripped to the ground as the former head of Deimon fell to his knees, dropping his cellphone.

The Nagas sniper looked at him, the legendary Hiruma Youichi, and saw his eyes glaze even as he still wore his sadistic smile. He collapsed near the phone, from which Agon’s voice escaped.

“And don’t worry, I’ll take care of your wife for you. Thanks for the cigs… bastard.”

Ikkyuu grinned and turned his back on the man he had shot down.

Of course Hiruma had anticipated this: it was the moment their cover was blown.

_. _

_. _

_ OoO _

_. _

_. _

Agon emptied his glass before presenting his pack of cigarettes to Mamori.

“Cigarette?” he said with a fake smile.

She shook her head. Agon shrugged and took one for himself.

“Well, you saw I didn’t lie. I gave you exactly the amount you wanted.”

“How do I know your people aren’t waiting for me outside when I leave?” Mamori replied, putting down her untouched glass of alcohol.

“I’m a man of my word, believe it or not,” Agon lit his cigarette. “But I have one question: how did a woman manage to become the head of a bunch of lame ducks like Deimon?”

“That is none of your concern,” the young woman replied dryly. “You have the detonator, isn’t that enough?”

The boss of the Nagas burst out laughing. “The only thing I’m interested in is crushing Deimon. And to take advantage of all the riches it might hold.”

“I don’t think you are in a position to talk about Deimon’s riches,” Mamori retorted.

“Oh really? You’ve only been at the head of Deimon for a couple months. While we have with us the former boss, Hiruma Youichi. He traded his gang for ours, and I’d say overall he hasn’t been short-changed.”

Mamori’s hands tensed almost imperceptibly, he noticed with satisfaction.

“Then you must already know,” she replied weakly, “Deimon has no wealth to speak of. I fail to see how you would benefit from destroying us.”

“Oh no, there is still something, at the Yûhi Guts. You know what I’m talking about. That’s what I want.”

Mamori turned toward him, trying to hide her bewilderment. He had heard about the safe in the Yûhi Guts territory as well… and he seemed to know what it contained while she herself did not.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, “but as you said, I have only been the head of Deimon for barely a few months. I wouldn’t be able to give you that.”

Agon didn’t believe her for a second.

“Well, I’ll have to content myself with what I have for the moment.” 

Without warning he grabbed Mamori’s arm and pulled her against him. He felt her stiffening and pulling back weakly, which only made him strengthen his grasp.

“Come on,” he said, “It’s too late to change your mind now. I thought I had been perfectly clear about my intentions.”

He took another drag on his cigarette, then leaned in to kiss her. She pulled back from him as best she could and looked him in the eyes as he came toward her… and then he suddenly grabbed her thin white hand that was fumbling in her bag.

“What’s this?” he said, snatching the object she had been trying to grasp without him noticing.

At first glance it seemed to be an ordinary pepper spray. But Agon saw the logo of the Dokubari Scorpions etched on it. He tightened his grasp on her arm, causing a cry of pain from Mamori.

“So, you planned to drug me? Tch… you’re a fool if you think you can win against me, gorgeous.” 

He trapped her on the corner of the sofa. His breath made Mamori shiver in disgust and he felt it. His smile doubled and he moved his hand toward her face.

“If I was able to turn your bastard ex-husband to ashes, how do you think you could be a threat to me?” he said, suddenly pulling off her wig.

Mamori cried out in surprise. Her black wig fell to the ground along with the net that had held her red hair back. She felt disarmed, and her mask began to crack. She was afraid. Agon ran his tanned hand along her thigh.

“After all, it’s all his fault, all of this. Right?  _ Hiruma Mamori. _ ” 

_. _

_. _

_ OoO _

_. _

_. _

It was the first time in her life that Mamori had been afraid to hear her own name. She was almost too shocked to say anything.

“What have you done to Hiru…”

He grabbed her so hard that it hurt.

“You sure you want to know? At this very moment, your dear husband is probably rotting at the bottom of some river.” 

Mamori froze and looked at him, shocked. A cruel smile grew on Agon’s face as he watched her eyes suddenly fill with tears.

“No…” Mamori stammered. “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“Why do you look so surprised?” Agon sneered. “A loser like him, always cheating to get what he wants-- he never had any talent anyway. It’s the ending he deserved.”

Moved by instinct and a power she couldn’t explain, Mamori pushed him back and slapped him with every ounce of her strength. 

“You’re lying!” she shouted, her eyes full of tears.

“Hah??”

Agon was beyond furious. How dare she slap him? He struck his hand against her cheek and she fell to the ground. Mamori let out a soft cry when she saw him advance toward her. Panicked by his menacing presence, she tried to scramble back but he soon caught her.

“I think it is time you learned your lesson,” he said, grabbing her by the neck.

Mamori was about to hit him again when suddenly he froze.

“What… the…” he stuttered, falling to his knees.

Mamori watched, terrified, as he put his hands to his throat, his eyes rolling in all directions. His head bobbed left and right until he finally collapsed in a heap on the floor.

For a few seconds, the young woman did not understand what had happened and was afraid that he would suddenly rise to attack her. But he did not move an inch. He appeared to be completely unconscious. Perplexed, she approached cautiously, reaching one hand out towards him, trembling at the idea he would suddenly grab her like in those horror movies.

But Agon did not move again.

“Fuckin’ dreadlocks,” she heard the voice behind her. “Your fuckin’ cigarettes got you in the end.”

Mamori turned abruptly. She felt like she was having a déjà vu. Hiruma was in front of her, having once again apparently entered through the window.

His vest was stained with blood, but he otherwise seemed fine.

“Hiru… ma?” she breathed, her eyes the size of saucers.

He moved toward Agon and took the magnetic card from his jacket.

“I… I thought you were dead,” Mamori said, disoriented. “Agon said…”

“Kehkehkeh…” Hiruma chuckled. “But I was dead. It was planned, the fuckin’ dinosaur recognised you and snitched to his fuckin’ boss.”

Mamori felt a chill run through her as she remembered the meeting with Gaou. So he had been able to recognise her despite her disguise, even after all that time.

“Are you hurt? How did you manage to escape?”

Her ex-husband replied only by tossing a bag filled with fake blood on the coffee table. Then he inserted the magnetic card into the briefcase, took the detonator and slipped it into the pocket of his vest. He didn’t seem concerned about the young woman. Not knowing what to say, Mamori turned her gaze toward the unconscious body of the Nagas’ boss.

“What… did you do to Agon?”

“Kehkehkeh… you think you’re the only one to call on the fuckin’ scorpion?”

With a thin smile, Hiruma snatched something off the table and threw it to her. Agon’s cigarettes. Mamori looked at them, bewildered, then understood.

“You had Kanagushi boobytrap the filters?”

“If you know the answer, why are you asking?” he said, picking up the briefcase of money.

It was when he turned on his heels to leave, as if nothing of importance had happened, that Mamori finally reacted. She stood, picking up something, then barred his way.

“You aren’t going anywhere. Not this time. Give me the detonator.”

She held out her hand, her jaw tensed. Hiruma smiled and she wanted to strangle him.

“Oh? What’re you gonna do if I refuse?”

Mamori raised the sedative spray toward him, as if to tell him she wasn’t afraid to use it.

“You deserve to be abandoned here, like you abandoned your own gang. You realize that all the problems we have now are because of you?”

Hiruma chuckled.

“Some fuckin’ manager you are. You can’t be very intelligent if you don’t know how to get out of your problems on your own.”

The young woman reddened.

“So why go to all this set up to supposedly take care of your stupid gang?” she yelled. “You knew very well I wouldn’t be able to lead the gang. It was only for…”

“The money?” Hiruma cut her off, leaning toward her with his sadistic smile on his lips. “Yes, that’s right.”

His declaration made her heart race. He truly was unscrupulous. She didn’t know what to say, and she could feel her throat closing. Praying that she wouldn’t cry, she said: “You want my wedding ring too, don’t you? Where the code for the safe in the Yûhi Guts territory is engraved.”

Hiruma raised his eyes to the sky.

“Tch… I already told you a million times, stop asking me questions you know that answer to,” he muttered.

Mamori looked at him with contempt. 

“How could you fall so low…?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

She removed the wedding band and threw it at the feet of her ex-husband.

“Here. I thought you had changed. But in the end, you stayed the same.”

Hiruma didn’t reply. He looked at the ring at his feet. To Mamori it seemed he didn’t have anything else to add. Throwing the sedative spray on the floor, she turned on her heels, and grabbed the handle of the door to leave.

“Fuckin’ manager.”

His ex-wife turned back suddenly.

“What is…” she began.

“Five years, and you’re still slow on the uptake,” Hiruma replied with a chuckle.

He put a hand against the door and held out the wedding band that she had let fall a few seconds before.

“I don’t understand,” Mamori said.

“Kehkehkeh,” he laughed. “I wanted to see if you had really changed. And like always, I was right: you are still the fuckin’ idiot I knew.”

“You’re wrong,” Mamori replied vehemently. “I already told you, I’ve changed.”

“Oh?” Hiruma leaned toward her. “Five years, and you still keep insisting that you hate me.”

He was too close. His ex-wife could not move. His nose was nearly touching hers and she felt her knees weaken.

“And then, just because I asked, you came back to me. In less than three days.”

Mamori’s eyes widened as she was confronted with the facts. It was true. She had practically come running back when she heard he wanted to see her. 

“But no,” she protested. “It was because I thought you wanted to talk to me about something important…”

Hiruma laughed and she instantly dug in her heels. Her hand raised to slap him but he blocked it easily. Even that light contact sparked a dangerous fire that spread through her body.

“Deimon needed me,” she maintained, in a voice that was beginning to tremble.

“Kehkehkeh.. fuckin’ manager. You really believe I would have called you back to screw everything up?”

“You needed my wedding ring,” Mamori replied without missing a beat, her voice becoming more and more rough as she felt herself losing ground. “You needed me to go… to Osaka to get… your…”

The rest of the sentence left her. She knew. She had always known.

“You never needed me for that,” Mamori whispered as she lost herself in his eyes.

Hiruma had an extraordinary memory and intelligence, making him the ideal man to easily win money and put casinos out of business, or to memorize the codes to his safes. He never needed her for that.

Not for Deimon. Not for the money.

He was too close, leaning toward her much too close. 

In mere minutes, he had taken down all her defenses and lifted the veil from the feelings that she had tried to hide all that time.

“I hate you, Hiruma,” Mamori spat out in a whisper as she stared at his lips.

“Too bad, fuckin’ manager,” her ex-husband said in a coarse voice.

And she realized she had been waiting for this moment from the very instant she saw him. His malicious stare said it had been the same for him.

Mamori couldn’t endure their little game any longer and sent the promises she made herself to hell.

Her hands grasped his jacket to pull him brusquely toward her in a passionate kiss. 

It was as if all the waiting had made her more sensitive to everything. They embraced passionately, celebrating their reunion.

Hiruma pushed her legs apart with his knees as she hurried to undo the clasp of his belt. She searched frantically for his lips, letting out a moan as her ex-husband’s hand made its way under her dress.

He pressed her against the door, breaking from her lips for a moment to steal a breath, and Mamori ran her hands over him, anxious to feel him against her. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have pushed away immediately, with Agon’s body still laying on the floor unconscious. But instead her body arched against Hiruma’s, moaning at his touch, yearning for him to finally give her what they had both been anticipating.

“Fuckin’ woman,” he murmured in a husky voice when he discovered she was wet.

He saw that she hadn’t even heard him and ground his teeth. His two long hands seized her by the waist and he penetrated her.

“Youi … chi…”

Her plea had a devastating effect on him, and even more than her body rocking against him so she could feel him deeper inside her. He put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. If they keep going on like this, he would be uncontrollable.

Nonetheless, he took great delight in knowing that even despite all those years of resentment, he was still able to awaken the perverted side of her that hid beneath that angelic face.

_. _

_ Flashback _

_. _

We’ll be ready for the reconnaissance mission soon,” Musashi said. “The Yamaguchi corporation is crushed with debt, it should be a piece of cake.”

Hiruma was seated at his desk in his big black chair with his back turned. He didn’t reply, instead contemplating the file he had just received, from the look of the yellow envelope on the desk.

Musashi was surprised to see the machine gun laying on the desk as if it had been thrown. In general, Hiruma was very careful with his weapons. 

“We leave in ten minutes,” he said before he exited.

Hiruma turned when he heard the door close and quickly typed something on his computer, tossing the file on the desk. Photos slipped from the folder, showing his ex-wife at a business conference, dancing with her boss. As the snapshots progressed, what appeared to be a polite dance became more sensual. 

Shuhei was the young boss of the Suzuki Corporation, a business that seemed positioned to expand in the United States.

But this fuckin’ midget had shown a deep interest in Mamori. By the end of the dance they had ended up too close to one another. As if ready to kiss. In the last photo, Mamori had even stopped smiling, looking this Shuhei in the eyes. His spies confirmed their relationship.

Hiruma leaned back in his seat and pulled another stick of gum from its packet.

_. _

_. _

_ End of flashback _

_. _

_. _

“We have to go, fuckin’ manager.”

Mamori slowly came back down to reality. She cursed herself for having thrown away all her credibility, all her principles, all for ten minutes that had been  _ oh so  _ magnificent! If someone had heard her, well… the people on the other side of the door could go to hell.

Slowly they moved apart. Mamori took care to avoid Hiruma’s gaze and replied in what she hoped was a professional voice:

“You’re right... We’re in enemy territory.” 

At these words Hiruma burst out laughing. “Kehkehkeh! You talk like a real gang leader, fuckin’ manager. Don’t get too carried away.”

She shot him a dark glare, which he ignored, as she took her cellphone out of her bag.

“I’ll have Musashi come get us,” she said, tired of their little game. She held her phone to her ear and waited anxiously with her cheeks flushed, though she tried to keep up a front of composure.

“Musashi, it’s me,” she blurted out when the line picked up. “You have to come get me immediately. I’m at…”

She stopped herself in mid-sentence. There was no reply on the other end of the line.

“Musashi, can you hear me?” Mamori was suddenly worried. “I said come get me.”

There was a strange noise on the other end of the line, like a snicker. Mamori paled.

_ “Come get you?”  _ It was Marco’s voice, clearly very amused by the situation. “ _ But we’re already there. How lucky you are.” _

And he hung up. Hiruma didn’t need to be told what was happening: he immediately sensed that they were in danger.

Mamori quickly turned toward the door to leave but her ex-husband blocked her.

“What are you doing? We have to leave!”

“Leave?” he repeated sarcastically. “Leave how, fuckin’ manager? The fuckin’ tank is surrounding the building as we speak.” 

Mamori began to tremble from both fear and anger.

“What should we do?” she said, powerlessly. “If we hide waiting for Sena or Monta to come…”

Hiruma didn’t reply to her rambling. With a glance behind them he understood. Snipers already had them at their mercy. This was going to hurt, not just for him, but even more for Mamori. In this world, there was no room for women bosses.

“Five seconds,” he said, evaluating the situation with an expert eye. “Then they’re on us.”

Mamori didn’t say a word, but Hiruma had already snatched up the sedative spray and aimed it at her without warning or ceremony. In a psssccht! the young woman collapsed in his arms. Hiruma laid her on the ground and waited, grinding his teeth.

The door to the salon opened with a crash and he forced a smile.

Never show your weakness in front of the enemy.

.

.


	14. Chapter 14

“Wake her up.”

A syringe pierced Mamori’s pale skin and injected a transparent liquid in her veins. A few seconds later, the young woman regained consciousness with a deep breath and sat up. 

As she looked around, she found herself in an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by faces that were still blurred for the moment. However, she recognized the voices.

“Happy to see you back with us,” Marco commented with a sweet tone, which wasn’t a good sign.

“You bitch…” Agon was furious. Next to him, Hiruma was tied up and sitting on a chair. The bruises on his face showed he had received multiple strikes that Mamori was relieved she did not have to witness.

“Now, now, Agon, that is no way to treat a woman,” Marco said with a bored look on his face.

The chief of the Nagas moved towards Mamori, who was on the ground, grabbed her by the arm and threw her on a chair. The young woman nearly fell off, as she was also tied up.

“Do you know why you’re here, Anezaki?” Agon yelled. “Or should I say, Hiruma Mamori?”

Mamori didn’t respond. What was the point, anyway? She looked around, searching for an escape plan. But obviously no one would come to help her in this abandoned warehouse. Where were the others?

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Agon whispered, grabbing her by the hair. “Give me the combination of the Yûhi Guts’ safe or I swear I’ll kill you and your trash husband.”

Mamori’s senses were still numb and she had a hard time staying focused. What did he say...? Yûhi Guts’ safe? The one she tried to open, the one Hiruma never touched...?

The combination was on her wedding ring. Where was it?

Agon slapped her out of her silence, making her scream with surprise. She cursed.

“Agon,” Marco intervened with a severe voice.

“Shut the fuck up!” Agon lashed out at him, then turned back to his victim once again.

Mamori tried to ignore the throbbing pain on her cheek and the pestilent breath of the leader of the Nagas. He took two of her fingers and twisted them slowly, making her scream in pain again.

“Answer me!” he bellowed. “Give me the combination.”

But Mamori didn’t know. Right at that moment, she couldn’t think about anything but the pain. Was this what gang members had to bear? Had Koharu Wakana been through it too? Mamori just wanted it to stop.

“Agon, stop it at once!” Unsui ordered. 

His younger brother grumbled. Then he murmured to Mamori:

“When I’m done with you, you’ll beg me to kill you.”

Mamori lifted her head to stare at him and words came out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

“Fuck you.”

Not that she was planning on playing the hero. But her rage towards Agon made her reckless. 

And she paid for it. He grabbed her neck and started to choke her as he drew closer. “Now that can be arranged.”

Unsui pushed him away with one hand to prevent him from strangling Mamori and stared at the young woman. She slid to the floor, still numb from the pain and shaking in apprehension. Then Unsui turned towards Hiruma.

“It was a bad idea to get her involved,” he noted. “I can’t guarantee I can hold Agon back forever. So if you have even one ounce of respect for this woman, I suggest you start to cooperate.”

Hiruma didn’t bother looking at Mamori. He grinned, which upset Agon. Marco intervened, telling one of his masked guards, “Take her to the next room. We have business to take care of here.”

Mamori’s eyes widened. True, Marco was more of a gentleman than Unsui, but he wouldn’t hesitate to unleash Gaou to take care of Hiruma.

“No… Stop,” she protested, trying to break free from the Dinosaur’s firm grip.

But no one was listening to her. Her lungs and pride prevented her from screaming and she was taken to another part of the warehouse.

“Stop!” she repeated to the guard carrying her. “Leave me alone! Hiruma must…”

But to her surprise, the guard made her sit on a chair and untied her.

“You have gotten yourself into a big mess… Anezaki Mamori from Deimon.”

The guard lifted off his mask. Mamori stared at him in shock.

“Sh… Shin Seijuro?”

“Ojou is already circling the perimeter. We don’t have much time.”

Mamori stood up and took off her stilettos. She needed to move fast. 

“Give me a gun,” she said.

Shin stared at her.

“I was with Hiruma long enough to know how to use one,” Mamori insisted.

But Shin didn’t have any weapons. It was his mantra to fight without firearms: his hands were his weapons. Mamori held back an annoyed sigh. At the same moment, Gaou’s roar pierced the air. Hiruma wouldn’t have long. She had to be quick.

“What’s the plan?”

“The ambush is already happening,” Shin explained, putting on a gas mask.

As if to confirm his words, a loud explosion echoed through the warehouse, along with people screaming. In shock, Mamori stumbled and cried out, a hand on her heart. Soon, a pungent white smoke and a burning smell spread in the air. Mamori started coughing and felt her throat itching.

This tear gas had probably been - like all chemical creations from Dokubari Scorpions - modified with other things.

Shin might have been prepared for this, he hadn’t thought to bring a mask for Mamori, who had to protect herself with her sleeve. Tear gas soon burned her eyes, but the pain was suddenly pushed from her thoughts when she heard gunshots.

Shin dashed into the main area of the warehouse with incredible speed and tackled Unsui. Mamori noticed a gun laying on the floor, probably dropped by one of Marco’s henchmen during the explosion. She armed herself with it and shot Marco, striking him in the shoulder.

The scene was surreal. The warehouse was filled with gang members from Oujou and Deimon, most of whom were injured, but still fighting against Hakushû Dinosaurs. 

Mamori rushed to Hiruma, who was struggling against Gaou's powerful grip. The Dinosaur bodyguard saw her coming and smiled.

“Need a reminder of our last encounter, Hiruma Mamori?”

Too soon, the tear gas that she had hoped would hide her had faded away.

But just as Gaou was about to attack her, a massive silhouette pounced on him.

“Fuunrabaaa!” Kurita screamed as he hit Gaou.

He tackled him right in the stomach, forcing Gaou to step back. Mamori turned to Hiruma and managed to untie him. He still wore his mask of a smile, but struggled to speak due to the tear gas:

“Fuckin’… Takami… about… fuckin’ time…”

But he didn’t have time to say more. Agon had freed himself from Ootawara by throwing him against a pile of boxes and was rushing towards them. Mamori raised her weapon again but he was too fast. He grabbed her by the head and violently crushed her on the ground. Mamori was stunned.

“You… You’ve been nothing but trouble…”

He forced her to stand up. Mamori wished she could struggle, but not only was Agon far stronger, but she was only semi-conscious from hitting the ground. Finally, Hiruma stood up, free from his ties. 

“Just in time to see her die," the chief of Nagas said. "Any last words, trash?”

“Kekekeke…I could ask you the same question, fuckin’ drealocks.”

Mamori was looking at him through her blurred vision, on her feet only because Agon was holding her tightly.

“Tch… You think it’s time for your trash bluffing when I'm seconds away from crushing your wife with my bare hands?”

When Hiruma lifted his hand, he was holding the gun that Mamori had dropped. He aimed it at them, then took out a mini-remote from his pocket.

“One thing about these fuckin’ Dinosaurs is that they’re dumb enough to always pick the same place to settle their accounts.”

He pressed the button. Another explosion boomed and part of the burning roof structure fell near them. Agon jumped back, dropping Mamori, who tried to stand up on her own. The explosion nearly blew up half of Oujou. The majority of them rushed to the exit, knowing the chaos would alert the cops. Mamori found herself once again between Hiruma and Agon, each with a gun pointed at her.

“Ha! You’re not gonna kill the three of us, Hiruma, are you? Or did you finally realize your life is worthless?”

“Hiruma… just get out of here,” Mamori said, as loud as she could.

She didn’t have any weapons. Nothing. She was there, defenseless between two handguns and she hated it. 

“Fuckin’ dreadlocks, you’re too narcissistic to put your life in danger.” 

“You’re right, I’d rather endanger other people's lives.”

And he shot at Mamori, striking her right shoulder. Mamori’s blue eyes widened and she stared at Hiruma with the same shocked and lost expression he had. She collapsed on the floor.

“So, what are you gonna do, Hiruma?” Agon asked, as the air grew thinner and thinner. “If you keep on blowing up everything, that whore you call your wife won’t make it. And by the time you save her, I’ll be gone.”

Hiruma wore his smile as a mask once again, but his eyes weren’t lying: he was furious. 

“SO?” Agon provoked him, as he retreated to the exit. “What're you gonna do, trash?”

“Kekekeke… even after all this time, you keep forgetting something very important, fuckin’ dreadlocks.”

Hiruma raised the detonator. 

“I’m always one step ahead of you.”

And he pressed the button, blowing up the fire exit that Agon was moving towards. The force of the blast made them fall.

.

.

.

_ A few weeks later _

.

“I can’t believe what happened,” Suzuna said.

They were at Deimon’s headquarters. Mamori had a few bandages and a splint on the fingers Agon twisted, but fortunately her injuries were superficial. 

“It’s incredible no one got seriously injured,” she sighed.

“Still, You-nii shouldn’t have blown up the warehouse if you were still in there,” Suzuna remarked.

Mamori didn’t answer. Hiruma had strategically blown up the door near Agon, but the blast knocked her unconscious. She didn’t even remember how she got out after that.

“It’s a miracle you’re all still in one piece,” Sena said.

“That, we owe to Kurita,” Mamori replied. “Without him, Gaou would have killed me and Hiruma.”

Everyone turned to the body guard who became embarrassed at all the attention. 

“I...I was just doing my job,” he said modestly.

“And you worked hard,” Musashi said. “Now Marco is indebted to us for saving Gaou.”

“Not to mention he broke the gang honor code more than once by attacking Mamori and Yukimitsu in the Dokubari Scorpion territory.”

“What are we gonna ask of them?” Juumonji asked. “Now Deimon is the most powerful gang in Tokyo. The Shinryuuji Nagas are already eating from the palm of our hands.”

“Many things will be happening in the next week,” Mamori declared, getting everyone’s attention. “The most urgent one being who will be the new leader of the Shinryuuji Nagas.”

Everyone seemed confused.

“Ehm…” Kuroki replied “Shouldn’t we wait for Hiruma to make this kind of decision?”

Mamori scowled. When she had woken up in the hospital she had immediately demanded to see Hiruma. Musashi had taken every precaution not to upset her: the devilish leader of Deimon had vanished after the explosion. Probably he didn’t want to be seen injured and weak.

Despite sending orders to search for Hiruma to all their affiliated gangs, no one had been able to locate him.

“Hiruma left us, once again, with a huge mess I have to clean up,” Mamori reminded them.

It was a familiar scenario. But this time Mamori seemed more confident about what she needed to do. 

“The new leader of the Shinryuuji Nagas gang will be…”

They held their breath.

“Kurita Ryoukan,” Mamori said.

“What?!” they exclaimed.

“I… Me? But why?”

“You have the best profile,” Mamori explained. “Nagas is in a terrible state, we need someone steady, but generous and able to carry the weight of the gang’s reform on his shoulders. You’re the only one who can do this. It’s your turn.”

Musashi and Kurita glanced at each other. They knew the story was far more complicated than that. Kurita had dearly wanted to be a Naga like his father at the time when the gang was prospering by preserving the Japanese cultural heritage of their traditional neighbourhood, with the houses, the temples and the Onsen. But once the Kongo brothers seized power, Agon laughed at Kurita’s ambitions and threw him out, only to reform the gang to specialize in drugs and escorts like the Dokubari Scorpions.

“I won’t be asking you twice, Kurita,” Mamori said. "Are you capable of taking on this responsibility?”

Kurita stayed silent for a few seconds. Everyone waited for him and finally he straightened up, a determined look on his face.

“I’ll do it,” he announced.

Mamori smiled.

“Good. We’ll arrange a meeting with Unsui as soon as possible.”

“Ehm… And what do we do about Agon?”

Agon had been severely injured by the explosion and had dropped out of sight ever since. He had been humiliated and angry about the end of his gang when Unsui had been forced to retire from the Nagas’ leader position.

“Let me handle Agon,” Mamori replied. “For now, I need everybody to get ready. We need to supervise the treaty between the Hakushuu Dinosaurs and Taiyou Sphinx. Harao is still mad about Marco breaking into his safe. He keeps demanding compensation and harassing us to resolve this matter as mediators as soon as possible. We don’t want any more bloodshed.”

As everyone began filing out of her office, Mamori called:

“Musashi.”

He waited, understanding she wanted to talk to him in private. As soon as Toganou closed the door, he said:

“It’s nice what you did for Kurita.”

“It’s purely strategic,” Mamori replied, moving her right arm with a frown.

“You don’t need to talk like Hiruma anymore. You can be yourself.”

Mamori only stared at him with an unusual expression and said:

“I have also decided that Deimon should have a new leader.”

This time, Musashi winced. “That is Hiruma’s decision.”

“I’m the leader of Deimon, not Hiruma,” Mamori reminded him. “He gave up his right as gang leader the day he gave me Doburoku’s ring, you said it yourself, Musashi. I can designate anyone I want.”

“Is this some kind of revenge? For what he did to you?”

To his surprise, Mamori shook her head with a little chuckle.

“No. If I wanted revenge, I would have offered Deimon to the Nagas a long time ago. It’s time for us to grow beyond Deimon, Musashi. But before appointing a new leader, I have decided something else.”

She opened a drawer and pulled out a file.

“Does the name Takahashi Sana ring a bell?”

Musashi was an expert at keeping a poker face, but even Mamori could see him pale. She opened a file and showed him the picture of a young woman smiling while eating an ice cream, apparently unaware she was being photographed.

“Apparently, she had an appointment with an obstetrician in the Amino Cyborgs territory six weeks ago. Something you forgot to tell me?”

“... How did you find out?”

“Pure coincidence,” Mamori replied, putting the picture back in the file. “Hiruma has apparently been keeping an eye on your girlfriend for a long time now. Surely in order to protect her…”

“And what will you do to Sana?” Musashi asked, clenching his fists.

“I’ll give her the man she deserves,” Mamori said. “You are banished from Deimon. I forbid you to stick your nose in the gang's business. Make an honest living. Be the father this child deserves, be the husband she deserves.”

This time, Musashi almost choked with laughter.

“You’re not serious, are you? What is this? You’re living your dream through her, giving her what you never had?”

Mamori ignored him, shaking her head.

“You’re an idiot, Musashi. You shouldn’t have gotten her pregnant. Do you know what she is? She’s a target. Your weakness. Every second spent with her while doing gang business, you put her in danger. Now that Deimon is the most powerful gang in Tokyo, each of us has to take responsibility and we’re everyone else’s targets. Now is not the time to expose our weaknesses.”

Musashi clenched his jaw. She was right, he knew it. But now that Mamori wasn’t acting under the influence of Hiruma, he felt uneasy. It was as if she had changed to an insensitive woman.

“Now is the opportunity to protect your legacy and secure your future,” Mamori went on. “It’s something that people like us can’t even afford to dream about.”

She was right. Once again. Mamori could see in his eyes that he was imagining a normal life, away from crime: a husband, a father, the son his sick father deserved… for a gangster it was just a peaceful dream.

They stared at each other.

“What're you gonna do without me?” he asked.

Mamori smirked.“It’s time Deimon welcomes his new leader.”

“Yukimitsu?”

She shook her head. Her smile was sweet, like a mother with her child. A smile that could be only for one person:

“Kobayakawa Sena.”

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Petite Pirate:
> 
> As a HiruMamo fan, this fanfiction was written a long time ago and as time passes, many things changed and I included myself in this fanfiction (figuratively, not as an OC). This fanfiction is the best I ever wrote about Eyeshield fandom, and I include all the small mistakes, because they are part of the writing process. 
> 
> I do hope you'll enjoy reading it and don't hesitate giving us some feedback :D We worked hard on the translation, trying to capture the essence of the fanfiction as much as possible. 
> 
> Petite Pirate


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